LIFE    AND     LETTERS 


OF 


MADAME      SWETCHINE. 


LIFE   AND   LETTERS 


MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


BY 

COUNT    DE    FALLOUX, 

OF  THE   FRENCH   ACADEMY. 


TRANSLATED   BY  H.   W.   PRESTON. 


BOSTON : 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 
1867. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


C  A  MBRIDOE  ! 
STEREOTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BV  JOHN  WILSON  AND   SON. 


INTRODUCTORY    NOTICE. 


THE  conscientious  pains  taken  by  the  translator  to 
make  the  present  volume  a  clear  and  correct  English 
representation  of  the  French  original  have,  it  is 
hoped,  been  crowned  with  marked  success.  Whether 
this  has  been  achieved,  is  left  to  the  decision  of  the 
critics.  But  as  to  the  substantial  interest  and  value 
of  the  work  itself,  there  can  be  no  question. 

The  outer  life  of  Mme.  Swetchine  was  laid  amidst 
scenes  combining,  in  a  high  degree,  almost  all  the 
elements  of  power  and  splendor  and  romantic  vicis- 
situde adapted  to  awaken  and  gratify  curiosity. 

The  record  of  her  inner  life  is  richer  still  in  at- 
tractiveness and  instruction.  She  was  an  acute  and 
unwearied  student  of  herself  and  of  others.  In  the 
course  of  her  mental  career,  she  ran  through  the 
whole  scale  of  human  experience,  either  directly  or 
by  a  moral  mastery  of  the  secrets  of  society.  Few 

women  have  lived  so  deep  and  wide  and  crowded  a 

[v] 


vi  INTRODUCTORY  NOTICE. 

life  as  she,  or  with  such  a  profound  appreciation  of  its 
contents.  Nothing  which  combined  energy,  wisdom 
and  innocence  can  fathom,  was  unknown  to  her. 

As  a  character,  Mme.  Swetchine  must  henceforth 
hold  a  front  place  among  the  most  powerful,  original, 
pure  and  fascinating,  revealed  in  all  history.  The 
combination  in  her  of  natural  force,  intense  passion, 
acquired  knowledge,  resignation,  and  repose,  is  truly 
wonderful.  The  picture  of  her  steady  progress  from 
the  perturbations  of  earthly  and  personal  desires, 
towards  the  perfection  of  saintly  virtue  and  peace,  is 
charming  in  its  portrayal,  and  divine  in  its  signifi- 
cance. 

During  the  largest  part  of  her  long  and  rich  life, 
Mme.  Swetchine  stood  in  intimate  relations  with  a 
large  number  of  the  noblest,  most  interesting,  and 
commanding  characters  of  her  century.  These  are 
described  by  M.  de  Falloux,  and  their  mutual  rela- 
tions set  forth,  with  great  precision  and  skill.  The 
history  of  the  central  personage  forms  a  glorious, 
spiritual  epic.  The  accounts  of  her  friends  make  a 
portrait-gallery  of  exalted  characters. 

It  may  seem  strange,  that  a  work  so  eminently 
Catholic  in  its  quality  as  this  biography  should  be 
introduced  to  a  Protestant  people  by  a  Protestant 
translator  and  Protestant  publishers.  But,  on  fur- 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTICE.  Vll 

ther  consideration,  will  not  this  be  found  especially 
fit  and  serviceable?  In  this  country,  a  traditional 
antipathy  or  bigoted  repugnance  to  the  Catholic 
Church  prevails  in  an  unjustifiable  extreme.  What- 
ever is  repulsive  in  the  Catholic  dogmas  or  rule  is 
fastened  on  with  unwarrantable  acrimony  and  exclu- 
siveness.  The  interests  alike  of  justice  and  of  good 
feeling  demand  that  the  attention  of  Protestants  shall, 
at  least  occasionally,  be  given  to  the  best  ingredients 
and  workings  of  the  Catholic  system.  In  the  present 
work,  we  have  the  forensic  doctrine  and  authority  of 
Catholicity  in  the  background,  its  purest  inner  aims 
and  life  in  the  foreground.  We  here  have  a  beau- 
tiful specimen  of  the  style  of  character  and  expe- 
rience which  the  most  imposing  organic  Symbol  of 
Christendom  tends  to  produce,  and  has,  in  all  the 
ages  of  its  mighty  reign,  largely  produced.  If  every 
bigoted  disliker  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
within  the  English-speaking  race  could  read  this 
book,  and,  as  a  consequence,  have  his  prejudices 
lessened,  his  sympathies  enlarged,  the  result,  so  far 
from  being  deprecated,  should  be  warmly  welcomed. 
This  is  written  by  one  who,  while  enthusiastically 
admiring  the  spiritual  wealth  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
the  ineffable  tenderness  and  beauty  of  its  moral  and 
religious  ministrations,  is,  as  to  its  dogmatic  fabric 


Vlll  INTRODUCTORY   NOTICE. 

and  secular  sway,  even  more  than  a  Protestant  of 
the  Protestants. 

Finally,  this  book  is  especially  commended  to 
women  as  a  work  of  inestimable  worth.  The  char- 
acter and  life  of  Mme.  Swetchine,  her  lonely  studies 
and  aspirations,  her  sublime  personal  attainments, 
her  philanthropic  labors,  her  literary  productions,  her 
sweet  social  charm  and  vast  influence,  her  thrice- 
royal  friendships  with  kings  and  geniuses  and  saints, 
the  sober  raptures  of  her  religious  faith  and  fruition, 
form  an  example  whose  exciting  and  edifying  interest 
and  value  are  scarcely  surpassed  in  the  annals  of  her 
sex. 

WILLIAM  ROUNSEVILLE  ALGEE. 


AUTHOK'S    PKBFACE. 


WHAT  Mme.  Swetchine  was,  others  have  told,  and 
others  will  yet  tell,  better  than  I.  No  one  will  tell 
it  better  than  herself  in  this  volume,  which  con- 
tains at  once  her  thoughts  and  her  example. 

Yet  I  owe  the  public  a  word.  I  feel  bound  to 
explain  by  what  means,  and  under  what  circum- 
stances, I  became  the  depositary  of  the  treasure 
which  is  soon  to  pass  from  my  hands  into  those  of 
the  public. 

Mme.  Swetchine  herself —  and  I  can  support  the 
assertion  by  a  thousand  irrefragable  proofs  —  never 
conceived  the  ambition  of  posthumous  fame.  Her 
constant  and  much-to-be-lamented  anxiety  was  to 
keep  a  veil  between  her  private  life  and  the  world, 
and  never  allow  it  to  be  raised.  In  this  respect, 
her  humility  took  every  precaution  which  a  haughty 
reserve  could  have  suggested ;  and  she  was  always 
humble. 

After  the  death  of  General  Swetchine,  Mme.  Swet- 
chine made  known  her  purpose  to  appoint  me  the 
executor  of  her  will.  She  had  mentioned  the  subject 

[ix] 


x  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

to  me ;  speaking,  however,  from  a  purely  legal  point 
of  view,  and  without  allowing  me  the  slightest 
glimpse  of  her  intentions  concerning  her  memoir. 
I  was  so  profoundly  sure  that  she  would  shroud  in 
inviolable  obscurity  all  which  concerned  herself  per- 
sonally, that  I  never  felt  at  liberty  to  question  her, 
or  to  obtain  information  which  would  have  been 
exceedingly  precious  to  me  as  her  biographer. 

Mine.  Swetchine  did  not  suppose  it  possible  for 
her  life  to  be  written,  or  her  works  published. 
Never,  for  an  instant,  did  she  either  hope  or  fear 
that  her  papers  would  be  examined  with  the  minute- 
ness necessary  for  the  discovery  and  restoration  of 
their  connected  order.  Nevertheless,  when  she  hon- 
ored me  with  this  legacy,  I  believe  she  did  it  delib- 
erately, and  not  without  the  affectionate  and  discerning 
thought  which  she  exercised  in  other  matters. 

During  her  lifetime,  she  had  no  desire  either  to 
hoard  her  thoughts,  or  to  make  them  public.  Neither 
did  she  wish  arbitrarily  to  condemn  aught,  save  that 
which  she  destroyed,  out  of  prudence  or  delicacy  for 
others.  Many  of  her  books  of  notes,  extracts,  and 
pious  meditations,  were  sources  of  pleasure  and 
profit  to  herself;  and  for  her  own  use  she  preserved 
them  till  the  day  of  her  death.  She  left  to  Provi- 
dence the  care  of  determining  the  value  and  the 
destiny  of  these  scattered  fragments ;  but,  with  all 
her  discretion,  she  was  not  forgetful.  She  would 
never  have  deprived  her  friends  of  a  source  of  con- 
solation and  support ;  still  less  would  she  have 


AUTHOR  S    PREFACE.  XI 

arranged  and  prescribed  the  execution  of  any  wish 
of  her  own.  By  withholding  all  confidential  com- 
munications and  indications,  by  the  absence,  as  it 
were,  of  any  conducting  wire,  she  caused  all  the 
chances  to  lean  to  the  side  which  she  preferred, — 
that  is,  the  side  of  silence.  After  that,  she  closed 
her  eyes  to  the  future,  accepting  whatever  resolu- 
tion her  friends  might  take,  as  a  decision  in  which 
it  had  sufficed  her  to  have  no  voice. 

The  judgment  and  the  wish  of  the  friends  con- 
sulted have  been  unanimous.  I  will  venture  to  add, 
that  she  herself  justified  us  in  advance,  when  she 
wrote  as  follows,  on  the  death  of  her  friend,  the 
Princess  Alexis  Galitzin  :  — 

"  If  I  might  make  a  suggestion,  T  would  entreat  you  to  com- 
mit to  paper  a  few  dates,  a  few  words,  some  slight  sketch,  for 
the  sake  of  preserving  the  memory  of  that  holy  woman.  I  know 
well  that  she  needs  it  not,  and  that  all  which  concerns  her  now 
is,  that  her  name  be  inscribed  in  the  book  of  life  ;  but  for  us,  and 
those  who  are  to  come  after  us,  it  is  a  great  consolation  to  know 
something  of  our  elders  in  the  faith.  As  long  as  we  are  igno- 
rant of  their  character,  their  vocation,  and  the  acts  of  their  lives, 
they  live  for  us  in  an  abstract  state ;  and  abstractions,  as  you 
well  know,  do  not  touch  the  heart." 

These  lines  alone  would  have  sufficed  for  the  se- 
curity of  my  conscience,  and  the  inspiration  of  my 
work. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A  glance  at  the  court  of  Russia  in  the  eighteenth  century. — Birth 
of  Mme.  Swetchine.  —  Her  education.  —  Her  marriage  ....  1 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  French  emigres  in  Russia.  —  Their  connection  with  Mme.  Swet- 
chine. —  Reign  of  the  Emperor  Paul.  —  Courageous  generosity  of 
General  Swetchine.  —  His  high  position  at  court.  —  His  dis- 
grace. —  Extracts  from  Mme.  Swetchine's  note-books 23 

CHAPTER  III. 

Accession  of  the  Emperor  Alexander.  —  Arrival  of  the  Count  de 
Maistre  at  St.  Petersburg.  —  Adoption  of  young  Nadine  Staeline. — 
Works  of  charity  and  correspondence  with  Alexander  Tourgue- 
nief. — Marriage  of  the  Princess  Gargarin.  —  Earliest  letters  to 
Mile.  Roxandra  Stourdza 44 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Invasion  of  Russia  by  the  Emperor  Napoleon.  —  Mme.  Swetchine  is 
appointed  president  of  the  (soldiers'  Aid  Society.  —  Letter  to  the 
Abbe1  Nicolle.  —  Correspondence  with  Mile.  Stourdza  during  the 
years  1813  and  1814 65 

CHAPTER  V. 

Connection  between  Mile.  Stourdza  and  Mme.  de  Kriidener.  —  Cor- 
respondence between  Mme.  Swetchine  and  Mile.  Stourdza  con- 
tinued   91 

[xiii] 


XIV  CONTEXTS. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PAGE 

Album  of  Louis  de  Saint  Priest,  and  unpublished  thoughts  of  Count 
de  Maistre.  —  Death  of  the  Princess  de  Tarente 120 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Conversion  of  Mme.  Swetchine 131 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Mme.  Swetchine  has  occasion  publicly  to  profess  the  Catholic  faith. — 
Her  departure  for  France 146 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Arrival  of  Mme.  Swetchine  at  Paris.  —  Correspondence  with  the 
Duchess  de  Duras 155 

CHAPTER  X. 

Unpublished  letters  of  Count  de  Mais^re.  —  Mme.  Swetchine's  earli- 
est connections  in  Paris.  —  Notes  of  the  Abbe"  Desjardins. — 
Departure  of  Mme.  Swetchine  for  Italy.  —  Correspondence  with 
the  Marquise  de  Montcalm 177 

CHAPTER   XL 

Excursion  to  Carlsbad.  —  Return  to  Rome.  —  Continuation  of  the 
Correspondence  with  the  Marquise  de  Montcalm.  —  Letters  to 
Mile,  de  Virieu,  the  Countess  de  Sainte-Aulaire,  the  Duke  de 
Laval  Montmorenci,  and  Mine.  Re"camier.  —  Extracts  from  her 
journal 199 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Permanent  establishment  of  Mine.  Swetchine  in  Paris.  —  Death  of 
the  Emperor  Alexander,  and  accession  of  the  Emperor  Nich- 
olas.—  Salon  of  Mme.  Swetchine. — Mme  de  Nesselrode's  resi- 
dence near  her.  —  Death  of  the  Duchess  de  Duras 222 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Revolution  of  1830. —  New  religious  situation.  —  Correspondence 
with  the  Count  de  Montalembert  and  the  Abbe  Lacordaire. — 
Notes  of  Fattier  de  Ravignan 247 


CONTENTS.  XV 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Death  of  the  Countess  de  S^gur  d'Aguesseau.  —  Death  of  Prince 
Gargarin.  —  Letter  of  Mme.  Swetchine  on  the  occasion  of  a  se- 
vere order  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas.  —  Mme.  Swetchine's  last 
visit  to  Hussia.  —  Consecration  of  her  chapel.  —  Her  piety.  —  Her 
charity 276 

CHAPTER  XV." 

Revolution  of  1848.  —  Mme.  Swetchine's  opinion  of  the  events  and 
personages  of  this  epoch.  —  M.  de  Radowitz.  —  Donoso  Cortes.  — 
M.  Berryer.  —  Death  of  General  Swetchine.  —  Crimean  war.  — 
Death  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas 304 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

M.  de  Lamartine  and  Count  de  Maistre.  —  Correspondence  with 
Prince  de  Broglie  and  Alexis  de  Tocqueville.  —  Mme.  Swet- 
chine's failing  health.  —  Her  last  visit  to  Fleury 321 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Letter  to  Count  de  Montalembert  on  the  last  days  of  Mme.  Swet- 
chine   342 


LIFE  OF  MADAME   SWETCHINE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

A  glance  at  the  court  of  Russia  in  the  eighteenth  century.  —  Birth  of 
Madame  Swetchine.  —  Her  education.  —  Her  marriage. 

MADAME  SWETCHINE  was  born  at  Moscow,  on 
the  22d  of  November,  1782.  Her  father,  M.  Soy- 
monof,  was  descended  from  an  ancient  Muscovite  family, 
occupied  an  important  post  in  the  internal  administration 
of  the  empire,  and  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Acade- 
my of  Sciences  at  Moscow.  Her  mother  belonged  to  an 
equally  distinguished  race,  remarkable  alike  for  literary 
taste  and  military  ability.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Major- 
General  Jean  Boltine,  a  native  of  the  environs  of  Kasan ; 
and  one  of  her  ancestors  had  been  Russian  ambassador  to 
Denmark.  General  Boltine  kept  up  a  protracted  contro- 
versy with  Prince  Sherebatof  on  the  subject  of  the  Russian 
annals,  —  several  pages  of  which  he  helped  to  elucidate  ; 
and  he  carried  the  translation  of  the  French  Encyclopedia 
into  Russian  up  to  the  nineteenth  volume. 

At  that  period,  even  more  than  at  present,  Moscow  was 
the  real  national  capital  of  Russia ;  and  the  most  illus- 
trious of  her  country's  memories  mingled  naturally  with 
Mme.  Swetchine's  earliest  impressions.  It  \>iir*&e  neces- 
sary to  pass  hi  rapid  review  the  events,  the  contrasts,  the 
spectacles,  which  were  the  first  teachers  of  hqy-*young 

1 


2  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCIIINE. 

mind,  and  long  continued  to  influence  her,  if  we  would  not 
neglect  the  principal  feature  of  a  rare  predestination,  and 
make  light  of  that  love  of  country  which  she  so  faithfully 
cherished.  In  her  biography  there  are  facts  which  cannot 
be  adequately  appreciated  till  one  has  become  penetrated 
with  the  true  spirit  of  the  Russian  mind  and  manners  at 
that  epoch,  and  till  the  reader  has  first  transported  him- 
self into  a  realm  of  history  differing  widely  from  our  own 
time  in  its  habits  of  thought  and  action. 

Russia  —  although  the  rude  interruption  of  her  history 
by  the  will  of  a  single  man  has  utterly  changed  its  ten- 
dency, its  theatre,  and  its  aspect  —  is  not  merely  a  power- 
ful empire :  she  is  an  original  and  mighty  nationality. 
A  survey  of  the  Kremlin  at  Moscow  is  equivalent  to  a 
rapid  review  of  the  surviving  traces  of  the  old  Russian 
dynasties,  and  leaves  a  profound  impression  upon  the 
memory. 

The  common  notion  in  France  is,  that  the  Kremlin  is 
a  citadel,  and  that  there  is  no  other  kremlin  except  that 
of  Moscow.  Both  these  ideas  are  erroneous.  Every 
ancient  and  important  Russian  town  has  a  fortified  enclo- 
sure containing  a  church,  which  is  the  object  of  peculiar 
reverence,  —  often  several  of  them,  —  a  convent,  a  maga- 
zine for  artillery,  and  some  munitions  of  war.  This  en- 
semble they  call  a  kremlin.  It  is,  in  effect,  a  fortress  where 
the  people  concentrates  all  which  constitutes  its  strength ; 
its  religion,  namely,  its  archives,  and  its  arms.  Treasures 
of  the  most  important  and  interesting  nature  have  accu- 
mulated at  Moscow  in  this  triple  connection. 

In  the  centre  of  the  Kremlin  stands  the  cathedral ;  be- 
yond are  the  old  manor  of  the  Czars,  the  senatorial  palace, 
and,  lastly,  the  arsenal.  Here  are  collected  relics  of  all 
the  ages,  from  the  sceptre  and  globe  sent  by  Alexis  Corn- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  3 

menes  to  Vladimir  Monomachus,  to  the  litter  of  Charles 
XII.,  a  trophy  of  the  battle  of  Pultowa.  The  crowns 
worn  by  the  successive  Russian  sovereigns  are  arranged 
in  their  historical  order.  A  single  glance  comprehends 
them  all:  the  first,  simple  fur  caps,  adorned  with  some 
cheap  emblems;  afterwards,  velvet  skull-caps,  enriched 
with  precious  stones ;  lastly,  the  modern  diadem  of  gold 
and  diamonds.  Then  come  the  thrones  :  the  ivory  one  of 
Iwan  III.  Wasiliewitch,  carved  in  the  Byzantine  style ; 
that  of  Boris  Godouuof,  a  wooden  seat  plated  with  gold, 
a  present  to  the  Czar  from  a  shah  of  Persia.  Alone 
on  a  platform  at  the  back  of  a  gallery,  there  is  a  double- 
seated  throne  of  silver  gilt,  which  attracts  the  attention 
less  by  the  magnificence  of  its  workmanship  and  its  pro- 
fusion of  turquoises  than  by  the  singular  arrangement 
of  a  movable  curtain  behind  it,  which  falls  from  a  spacious 
da'is,  and  served  to  associate  in  the  royal  scene  a  third 
invisible  personage.  This  is  supposed  to  have  been  the 
Princess  Sophia,  who  used  to  dictate  to  her  two  brothers, 
Iwan  and  Peter,  the  words  which  she  dared  not  trust  to 
their  infantine  or  intractable  memories.  But  the  younger 
of  the  two  brothers  soon  grew  weary  of  this  tutelage; 
the  prompter  was  relegated  to  a  monastery,  Iwan  was 
reduced  to  silence,  and  Peter  the  Great  was  left  the  sole 
occupant  of  this  throne,  which  he  found  none  too  large. 

The  revolt  of  the  Strelitz,  which  had  rendered  his  acces- 
sion bloody  and  terrible,  had  left  on  his  mind  an  inefface- 
able impression  of  the  barbarous  violence  of  his  subjects. 
His  education,  necessarily  confided  to  strangers  of  different 
nationalities,  had  developed  this  germ ;  and  the  Prince 
grew  up  with  a  determination  to  implant  European  civi- 
lization by  main  force  in  the  heart  of  Russia.  Every 
thing  was  sacrificed  to  this  dominant  idea,  —  his  repose,  his 


4  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

dignity,  the  life  of  his  own  son,  the  old  ancestral  resi- 
dence of  his  predecessors.  Peter  knew  well  that  he  could 
not  accomplish  single-handed  the  regeneration  of  which 
he  dreamed.  He  wished  to  open  to  strangers  a  door  into 
his  realm,  and  to  his  subjects  a  window  with  a  view  of 
Europe.  St.  Petersburg  was  improvised  in  the  midst 
of  sands  and  surge.  Was  this  enterprise,  undertaken  in 
defiance  of  the  soil  and  the  traditions  of  a  people,  a  suc- 
cess ?  It  is  still  an  open  question.  To  this  very  day,  the 
traveller  meets,  as  he  would  have  met  two  centuries  ago, 
with  Russians  who  are  smitten  with  love  of  the  young 
Prince  Alexis,  who  leagued  with  the  long-beards  to  resist 
the  impetuous  innovations  of  his  father,  and  who  fell  a 
victim  to  his  fidelity  to  the  old  Russian  instinct.  "What- 
ever may  yet  result  from  the  rival  destinies  of  St.  Peters- 
burg and  Moscow,  an  undeniable  revolution  took  place  in 
the  lifetime  of  Peter  the  Great,  and  survived  him.  Prog- 
ress in  the  mechanic  arts,  and  even  in  the  sciences ;  the 
improvement  of  mines ;  a  stronger  military  organization ; 
the  creation  of  a  navy  ;  acquisitions  of  territory  ;  and  con- 
stant and  deliberate  invasions  of  other  lands,  —  date  from 
his  reign.  But  unlimited  power  was  at  the  same  time 
inaugurated,  in  lieu  of  the  laws  and  customs  with  which 
authority  had  hitherto  been  clothed.  The  supreme  power 
destroyed  at  one  blow  its  useful  auxiliaries  and  its  in- 
convenient opponents.  Attendance  at  the  court  and  resi- 
dence on  the  great  estates  having  become  incompatible, 
lord  and  peasant  lost  sight  of  one  another  to  their  mutual 
disadvantage ;  serfdom,  far  from  being  expunged  from  the 
annals,  was  perpetuated  and  aggravated ;  the  remnants 
of  religious  liberty  were  swept  away ;  the  Czar  became 
absolute  pontiff  of  the  Church,  as  well  as  sole  head  of 
the  State ;  confiscation  accompanied  the  administration 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCIIIXE.  5 

of  justice,  and  corrupted  it ;  even  the  rules  of  the  royal 
succession  were  abolished ;  and  forty  years  afterwards,  at 
the  close  of  a  reign  of  crude  and  fantastic  grandeur, 
Peter  departed  this  life,  leaving  behind  him  only  a  huge 
rough  sketch,  and  as  many  ruins  as  monuments.  His 
successors  inherited  an  irresponsible  despotism,  chastised 
but  unmitigated  by  plots  and  assassinations.  Paul  I.  soon 
became  possible,  and  Alexander  necessary. 

Catharine  L,  the  second  wife  of  Peter  the  Great,  suc- 
ceeded him,  with  no  better  title  than  the  ascendency  of 
the  favorite  Menchikoff  at  the  head  of  a  soldiery  which 
he  had  carried  away,  won  over,  or  intimidated.  The  wife 
of  a  Swedish  corporal,  taken  prisoner  by  the  Russians; 
rendered  conspicuous,  first  by  her  beauty,  afterwards  by 
her  courage  and  presence  of  mind,  —  Catharine  L,  in  the 
field  and  upon  the  throne,  is  the  representative  of  one 
of  Fortune's  caprices.  She  died  two  years  after  the  Czar, 
worn  out  by  the  abuse  of  intoxicating  liquors ;  a  vice 
which  had  first  stimulated  and  then  conquered  her,  by 
imbruting  the  very  intelligence  which  had  paved  her  way 
to  supreme  power. 

Peter  II.,  son  of  the  unfortunate  Alexis,  who  was  pro- 
claimed emperor  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  but  succumbed 
almost  immediately  to  an  attack  of  small-pox,  is  scarcely 
to  be  counted  in  the  chronology  of  the  Russian  monarchs. 

The  Empress  Anne,  Duchess  of  Courland,  was  the 
next  occupant  of  this  formidable  throne.  She  made  use 
of  the  new  attributes  which  the  sovereign  authority  had 
arrogated  to  itself,  and  named  as  her  heir  an  infant  in 
the  cradle,  a  son  of  Prince  Anton  of  Brunswick,  who 
was  connected  on  his  mother's  side  with  the  imperial 
family.  The  Duchess  of  Brunswick  was  angry  at  finding 
herself  balked  of  the  prerogatives  of  the  regency  hi  the 


6  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

interest  of  the  Duke  of  Courland ;  and  the  field-marshal, 
Munich,  promised  to  avenge  her.  Followed  by  forty 
grenadiers,  he  went,  one  night,  and  seized  the  Duke  of 
Courland  in  his  bed,  and  exiled  him  to  Siberia.  A  daugh- 
ter of  Peter  the  Great,  Elizabeth,  who  had  beheld  with 
the  seeming  calm  of  passive  indifference  the  accomplish- 
ment of  these  ambitious  revolutions,  suddenly  takes  a  new 
turn,  or  is  relieved  from  her  abnegation.  Woronzof  is 
summoned;  the  imperial  palace  is  once  more  invaded  at 
night  by  three  hundred  grenadiers ;  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Courland  are  confined  at  Riga ;  and  the  infant  Emperor 
Iwan  is  shut  up  in  the  fortified  monastery  of  Walda'i,  and 
afterwards  transferred  to  the  citadel  of  Schlusselburg. 

The.  movement  which  had  placed  Elizabeth  upon  the 
throne*was  not  confined  to  the  narrow  circle  of  the  con- 
spirators. It  appeased  the  national  dissatisfaction,  which 
was  everywhere  manifesting  itself  against  the  interference 
of  foreigners  in  the  government  of  Russia.  A  single  day 
saw  the  principal  personages  in  the  empire  led  to  punish- 
ment,—  Munich,  Osterman,  Mengden,  and  some  others. 
Chancellor  Osterman,  who  had  presided  for  several  reigns 
over  the  conduct  of  foreign  affairs,  was  carried  down  in 
an  arm-chair  while  suffering  from  an  attack  of  the  gout, 
and  enveloped  in  a  dressing-gown.  The  executioner 
placed  the  Chancellor's  head  upon  the  block,  bared  his 
neck,  and  raised  the  axe.  At  that  moment,  an  officer 
came  up,  and  announced  that  the  Empress  had  granted 
Osterman  his  life,  but  condemned  him  to  perpetual  exile. 
The  old  minister  merely  bowed  his  head  in  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  favor,  and  said,  without  the  slightest  trace 
of  emotion  in  his  countenance,  "I  would  thank  you  for 
my  cap  and  perruque."  The  other  victims,  who  were 
assembled  at  the  foot  of  the  same  scaffold,  then  received 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  7 

commutation  of  their  sentence.  Munich  and  Osterman 
were  sent  to  Siberia,  while  the  Duke  of  Courland  was 
recalled  thence.  The  old  regent,  and  he  who  had  ousted 
him  from  power,  met  at  a  relay  station  in  a  suburb  of 
Kasan.  They  regarded  one  another  with  astonishment, 
exchanged  a  courteous  but  silent  salute,  and  continued 
their  opposite  routes. 

For  a  long  time,  Elizabeth  divided  her  confidence 
between  two  simultaneous  favorites.  Razoumofski  and 
Schouvalof  vied  with  one  another  without  jealousy,  and 
behaved  less  like  rivals  than  colleagues.  The  conflicts  of 
Europe  had  not  yet  shaken  the  Russian  government ; 
and  the  employment  of  its  mighty  resources  was  confined 
to  neighborhood  quarrels  with  Sweden,  Poland,  and  the 
Ottoman  Porte.  Elizabeth,  however,  interfered  actively 
between  Prussia,  Austria,  and  Hungary.  The  cabinets 
of  St.  James  and  Versailles  maintained  at  her  court 
accredited  diplomatic  agents  of  a  distinguished  rank ;  and 
Frederic  wrote  as  follows  in  his  military  memoirs :  "  Of 
all  the  neighbors  of  Prussia,  the  Russian  Empire  is  the 
most  dangerous,  and  deserves  the  most  attention.  It  is 
powerful,  and  it  is  near.  The  future  rulers  of  Prussia 
will  be  under  an  equal  necessity  of  cultivating  the  friend- 
ship of  these  barbarians." 

Count  Schouvalof  was  a  lover  of  the  fine  arts,  and 
did  much  to  cultivate  a  taste  for  them  at  the  Russian 
court.  He  founded  the  University  of  Moscow,  the  eldest 
and  foremost  of  the  Russian  universities,  and  opened 
with  the  French  philosophers  that  correspondence  which 
attracted  to  St.  Petersburg  the  attention  and  the  respect 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  He  conceived  the  idea  of 
intrusting  to  Voltaire  the  mission  of  writing  the  history 
of  Peter  the  Great,  and  transmitted  to  him  those  rnuti- 


8  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

lated  and  sycophantic  memoirs  on  which  the  popular 
judgment  of  this  prince  is  based.  Finally,  he  introduced 
the  French  language  into  the  official  documents,  and 
founded  a  French  theatre  at  St.  Petersburg. 

Civilization  continued  to  spread  in  Russia ;  but  the 
improvement  was  superficial,  not  thorough.  Immorality 
made  its  way  into  high  places,  along  with  polish  of  man- 
ner. The  lower  classes  were  taught  dissimulation  rather 
than  probity,  privileged  abuses  claimed  the  right  to  walk 
abroad  without  disguise,  and  no  thoughtful  or  careful 
study  was  bestowed  upon  the  tumults  and  oppressions  of 
the  people.  Costumes  were  changed  rather  than  man- 
ners ;  and  a  people,  than  which  there  is  none  more  richly 
gifted  with  intelligence  and  vigor,  was  made  a  spectacle 
of  by  its  masters,  rather  than  conscientiously  prepared 
for  the  accomplishment  of  its  true  destiny. 

Elizabeth  died  in  1761.  Her  chosen  successor  was 
her  nephew,  Ulric  of  Holstein  Gottorp,  whose  mother 
was  a  daughter  of  Peter  the  Great.  He  took  the  title 
of  Peter  III.  The  wife  who  was  to  share  his  throne 
was  Sophia  of  Anhalt-Zerbst.  On  embracing  the  Greek 
religion,  she  took  the  name  of  Catharine,  which  was 
given  her  by  the  Empress  Elizabeth.  An  avowed  mis- 
understanding already  existed  between  the  married  pair 
at  the  time  when  they  assumed  the  crown.  Peter  III. 
offended  the  Russians  by  the  sternness  of  his  manners, 
and  by  his  extravagant  fondness  for  the  Prussian  dis- 
cipline. The  young  officers  passed  rapidly  from  discon- 
tent to  conspiracy.  Peter  III.  was  attacked  at  Peterhof, 
while  the  Empress  continued  to  reside  at  St.  Petersburg. 
The  abdication  and  death  of  Peter  were  the  mysterious 
business  of  a  few  hours,  and  the  Empress  was  proclaimed 
under  the  name  of  Catharine  II. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  9 

Such  an  advent  necessitated  the  hushing  of  many  ru- 
mors, and  the  flattery  of  many  hopes.  Having  been  crowned 
with  great  pomp  at  Moscow  in  1762,  Catharine  summoned 
to  her  presence  the  deputies  from  all  parts  of  her  empire, 
with  the  purpose  of  submitting  to  them  her  plans  for 
reform  and  new  institutions.  An  assembly  of  something 
like  two  hundred  members,  representing  hostile  interests, 
and  speaking  different  languages,  fatigued  and  frightened 
her. .  The  deputations  were  dismissed,  and  pleasure  once 
more  took  precedence  of  business. 

But  Catharine  never  lost  sight  of  her  double  purpose 
of  winning  the  hearts  of  her  subjects,  and  securing  the 
suffrages  of  those  who  dispense  European  fame.  M.  de 
Breteuil,  the  ambassador  of  Louis  XV.,  wrote  from  St. 
Petersburg  to  Versailles :  "  The  Czarina  has  taken  pains 
to  ascertain  whether  or  no  I  am  acquainted  with  M.  de 
Voltaire,  in  order  to  insure  the  rectification  of  his  ideas 
about  the  melancholy  tragedy  of  Peterhof."  The  edu- 
cation of  her  only  son,  the  Grand-duke  Paul,  was  offered 
to  D'Alembert:  Grimm  and  Diderot  were  summoned  to 
St.  Petersburg.  Baron  Grimm,  who  had  left  Bavaria 
for  Russia,  soon  established  himself  at  Paris  in  the  char- 
acter of  diplomatic  historian  and  literary  charge  d'affaires. 
Diderot  wrote  to  his  Parisian  friends:  "I  am  treated 
here  as  the  representative  of  the  honorable  and  able 
portion  of  my  countrymen."  He  was,  however,  opposed 
to  maintaining  the  seat  of  government  at  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  often  repeated  that  "  to  have  the  capital  at  the 
extremity  of  the  kingdom  was  like  having  the  heart  at 
the  fingers'  ends :  it  rendered  the  circulation  difficult,  and 
the  least  wound  mortal."  Before  returning  to  France, 
Diderot  imparted  to  the  Empress  a  number  of  plans 
for  the  education  of  her  people,  all  of  which  she  promptly 


10  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

forgot.  Other  selections  were  more  fortunate.  Prussia 
saw  herself  deprived  of  the  laborious  and  celebrated  natu- 
ralist Pallas,  of  whom  Cuvier  said,  "  He  just  missed  of 
changing  the  whole  aspect  of  zoology :  lie  actually  did 
change  that  of  the  theory  of  the  earth."  In  short,  a 
just  appreciation  of  the  difficulties,  if  not  of  the  duties, 
of  her  situation ;  an  ambition  cherished  and  ripened  in 
her  youth ;  frivolity  of  taste  joined  with  grandeur  of  imagi- 
nation ;  a  constant  pre-occupation  with  schemes  of  fasci- 
nation and  seduction,  —  all  these  suggested  to  Catharine 
incessant  enterprises,  often  less  important  than  they 
appeared,  but  always  gorgeous  and  imposing. 

Nevertheless,  this  height  of  prosperity  was  not  exempt 
from  trouble  and  menace.  A  simple  Cossack,  Pugatchef, 
conceived  the  bold  project  of  passing  himself  off  for 
Peter  III.,  raised  regiments  in  the  provinces,  and  was 
vanquished  only  at  the  gates  of  Moscow.  The  imperial 
captive  at  Schlusselburg,  young  Iwan  VI.,  was  poniarded 
by  his  guards,  who  had  their  orders  beforehand,  at  the 
very  moment  when  an  attempt  which  had  been  crowned 
with  an  initial  success  was  about  to  place  him  at  the 
head  of  an  armed  insurrection. 

These  storms  allayed,  the  court  continued  to  ring 
with  the  feuds  of  the  favorites,  Gregory  and  Alexis 
Orlof,  and  Potemkin,  who  took  turns  in  stirring  up  cabals 
which  assumed  dangerous  proportions.  All  the  ambassa- 
dors entertained  their  sovereigns  with  them,  as  with 
events  which  exercised  an  immediate  influence  upon  Rus- 
sian politics. 

One  day,  the  Empress  sent  for  Count  Alexis  Orlof,  and 
addressed  him  as  follows :  "  Make  friends  with  Potemkin. 
See  that  this  extraordinary  man  is  more  circumspect  in 
his  conduct,  more  careful  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  duties 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  15 

her  travels  in  the  Crimea,  where  she  had  seen  so  many 
make-believe  villages,  and  ephemeral  foundations,  wittily 
characterized  by  the  Emperor  Joseph  II.  when  he  said, 
"  The  Empress  and  I  did  a  great  thing  this  morning : 
she  laid  the  first  stone  of  a  city,  and  I  the  last ! " 

The  fairy  pantomimes  performed  at  the  Hermitage 
were  the  first  to  strike  the  imagination  of  the  child, 
who,  as  yet,  relished  neither  the  tragedies  of  Voltaire, 
nor  those  of  Count  de  Segur,  —  then  ambassador  of 
Louis  XVI.,  —  nor  the  dramas  of  the  Empress  herself. 
The  little  girl  took  it  into  her  head  to  compose  a  ballet, 
which  she  entitled  "  The  Faithful  Shepherdess  and  the 
Fickle  Shepherdess."  She  danced  and  played  all  its 
scenes  to  her  father;  and  he  imparted  to  his  friends 
the  extreme  pleasure  it  had  given  him,  —  a  success  which 
made  so  deep  an  impression  upon  her  childish  memory, 
that  it  woke  a  smile  in  advanced  age. 

The  palace  was  resplendent  with  gilding,  and  brightly 
lighted  every  evening ;  and  the  slightest  pretext  was 
seized  upon  for  a  sumptuous  illumination.  These  also 
little  Sophia  repeated  in  her  play.  A  long  gallery  led 
to  the  saloon  of  M.  Soymonof,  where  she  often  aban- 
doned herself  to  the  enjoyment  of  her  great  dolls,  and 
her  ingenious  inventions.  She  had  passed  her  sixtieth 
year,  when  she  wrote  as  follows :  "  One  of  the  liveliest 
pleasures  of  my  childhood  was  to  compose  festive  deco- 
rations, which  I  loved  to  light  up,  and  arrange  upon  the 
white-marble  chimney-piece  of  my  schoolroom.  The 
ardor  which  I  threw  into  designing,  cutting  out,  and  paint- 
ing transparencies,  and  finding  emblems  and  mottoes  for 
them,  was  something  incredible.  My  heart  beat  high 
while  the  preparations  were  in  progress ;  but,  the  moment 
my  illumination  began  to  fade,  an  ineffable,  devouring 


16  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

melancholy  seized  me.  God,  the  world,  all  Christianity, 
were  revealed  to  the  soul  of  a  child ;  and  never  has  the 
'  sic  transit  gloria  mundi '  saddened  me  more  than  then." 

One  evening  in  the  autumn  of  1789,  M.  Soymonof, 
when  he  returned  to  his  rooms,  was  astonished  to  find 
his  gallery  studded  and  sparkling  with  an  innumerable 
quantity  of  little  candles.  Being  interrogated  as  to  the 
occasion  of  so  grand  a  festival,  his  daughter  replied, 
"  O  papa !  shall  we  not  celebrate  the  taking  of  the 
Bastile,  and  the  release  of  those  poor  French  prisoners  ?  " 
One  may  judge  by  this  of  the  habitual  tenor  of  the  con- 
versations in  which,  at  that  early  age,  the  child  felt  an 
interest,  and  bore  a  part.  In  short,  the  reigning  fashion 
in  the  north  of  Europe,  at  Berlin,  at  Vienna,  and,  above 
all,  at  St.  Petersburg,  was  to  resent  the  abuses  of  power, 
to  speak  warmly  of  the  redress  of  all  wrongs,  of  human 
liberty  and  dignity,  and  of  the  general  emancipation  of 
nations  and  of  mind.  In  a  moment  of  truly  royal  in- 
spiration, Peter  the  Great  let  fall  this  avowal :  "  Ah  me ! 
I  have  toiled  to  reform  my  subjects,  but  I  know  not 
how  to  reform  myself."  This  noble  word  was  yet  to 
be  the  motto  of  Catharine  and  her  court,  and  of  the 
majority  of  the  reformers  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

M.  Soymonof,  who  had  all  the  accomplishments  of 
his  time,  had  also  all  its  illusions.  He  was  generous, 
liberal,  interested  in  any  prospect  of  social  amelioration, 
but  oblivious  of  experience,  Utopian  in  his  schemes,  and 
utterly  led  astray  by  his  irreligious  prejudices.  Under 
these  circumstances,  the  education  of  his  daughter  was 
finished,  and  nothing  neglected  save  the  idea  of  a  divine 
law. 

No  better  teaching  had  the  Empress  Catharine  her- 
self received  from  her  father,  the  Prince  of  Anhalt.  A 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  17 

low-born  governess  had  scarcely  taught  her  to  read  when 
she  was  taken  to  Russia,  where  the  first  work  which  fell 
into  her  hands  was  Bayle's  Dictionary,  which  she  read 
with  avidity  three  times  in  succession  in  the  course  of 
a  few  months. 

At  the  age  of  fourteen,  Sophia  Soymonof  was  acquainted 
with  the  Russian  language,  of  which  most  of  her  com- 
patriots were  ignorant,  spoke  English  and  Italian  with 
as  much  ease  and  purity  as  French,  and  the  German 
correctly,  and  was  studying  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew. 
But  she  knew  no  religious  exercises  save  the  pompous 
spectacles  of  the  imperial  chapel,  and  had  never  called 
upon  God  to  bless  the  beginning  or  end  of  the  day.  Her 
heart's  instinct,  the  love  which  she  bore  her  father,  and 
the  almost  maternal  cares  which  she  lavished  upon  her 
young  sister,  born  in  1792,  —  these  had  been  her  sole 
guides,  and  had  sustained  her  in  well-doing. 

The  attention  with  which  the  French  Revolution  was 
regarded  at  St.  Petersburg  was  as  profound  as  its  catas- 
trophes had  been  unexpected.  The  Empress  assumed  at 
first  an  angry  and  threatening  attitude,  but  soon  foresaw 
the  cue  which  covetousness  and  ambition  might  take 
from  the  Revolution.  In  1794,  Poland  was  invaded  anew  ; 
and  Catharine  was  preparing  an  expedition  against  the 
English  dominion  in  Bengal,  when  death  overtook  her. 
She  was  seized  with  terrible  apoplexy,  on  the  morning 
of  the  9th  of  November,  1796,  in  the  midst  of  the 
pleasures  and  projects  which  age  had  neither  interrupted 
nor  abated. 

The  Prince  who  ascended  the  throne  under  the  name 
of  Paul  I.  had  been  kept,  until  the  age  of  forty-two,  under 
frigid  and  severe  restraint.  His  mother  had  given  him 
no  proofs  of  affection  or  confidence.  The  favorites,  who 

2 


18  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

in  turn  disputed  one  another's  pre-eminence,  found  it  ad- 
vantageous to  keep  him  out  of  the  way.  His  youth  wore 
away  in  ennui  and  constraint,  and  he  sometimes  even 
feared  for  his  own  life.  The  Empress,  we  are  assured, 
cherished  the  design  of  disinheriting  her  son,  and  sub- 
stituting her  grandson  Alexander.  The  young  Grand- 
duke  had  been  proclaimed  Czarowitch ;  and  Potemkin, 
at  the  same  time,  King  of  Tauride.  But  the  horror  which 
Catharine  experienced  at  the  thought  of  death ;  her  un- 
willingness to  contemplate  the  future  of  her  kingdom ;  and 
the  sudden  death  of  Potemkin,  who  expired  by  the  way- 
side, at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  while  travelling  in  the  Cher- 
sonese, —  prevented  the  Empress  from  realizing  her  plan, 
and  bequeathing  him  to  Russia  in  her  will. 

In  vain  had  Paul  pleaded  with  his  mother  for  the 
honor  of  commanding  an  army.  Catharine  could  not 
forget  after  what  fashion  the  way  to  the  throne  had 
more  than  once  been  opened.  On  one  occasion  only,  she 
associated  him  with  her  policy.  It  was  when  she  de- 
spatched him  to  Austria,  Italy,  and  France,  to  strengthen 
and  draw  closer  the  bonds  of  alliance  with  those  countries. 
When  war  was  declared  against  the  Turks  in  1788,  Paul 
insisted  on  taking  part  in  it.  "All  Europe,"  he  said  to 
his  mother,  "knows  how  I  desire  to  fight  the  Ottomans. 
What  will  they  think  when  they  hear  that  I  cannot  do 
it?"  —  "They  will  think,"  replied  the  Empress  coldly, 
"that  the  Grand-duke  is  a  dutiful  son." 

Paul  was  hi  the  habit  of  living  at  some  distance  from 
St.  Petersburg,  at  Gatschin,  a  country-seat  which  he  had 
by  degrees  converted  into  a  kind  of  stronghold,  flanked 
by  towers,  and  surrounded  by  moats  and  drawbridges. 
His  face  was  harsh,  and  almost  deformed;  the  cartilage 
of  his  nose  being  pressed  down  into  his  cheeks  in  con- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  19 

sequence  of  a  surgical  operation.  After  a  first  marriage, 
which  lasted  but  a  year,  he  contracted  a  second  with 
the  Princess  Mary  of  Wurtemberg.  The  change  of 
rulers  re-acted  immediately  upon  the  life  of  Sophia  Soy- 
monof,  who  was  just  entering  upon  her  sixteenth  year,  and 
was  appointed  maid  of  honor  to  the  new  sovereign. 

The  Empress  Mary,  under  whose  auspices  young  Sophia 
was  now  to  grow  up,  was  in  all  respects  an  illustrious  ex- 
ample of  amiability  and  high  principle.  Gifted  with  rare 
beauty,  and  encompassed  by  seduction,  she  did  not  give 
occasion  for  a  single  calumny.  She  was  the  mother  of 
six  children,  and  their  education  was  the  business  of  her 
life.  The  accession  of  Paul  and  Mary  at  first  belied  the 
unfavorable  auguries  which  some  sagacious  minds  had 
drawn  from  the  imperious  and  gloomy  character  of  the 
Grand-duke.  He  displayed  a  touching  —  some  said  an 
ostentatious  —  anxiety  to  reclaim  the  dishonored  memory 
of  the  unhappy  Peter  III.  The  Baron  Ungern-Sternberg, 
an  old  man  of  eighty,  formerly  aide-de-camp  to  his  father, 
was  living  in  retirement  and  oblivion.  Paul  created  him 
general-in-chief,  summoned  him  to  the  palace,  and,  turning 
to  a  portrait  of  Peter  III.,  whose  image  saw  the  light  for 
the  first  time  in  forty  years,  "  I  wish,"  he  said  to  the  old 
man,  who  was  affected  to  tears,  "  that  your  former  mas- 
ter should  be  witness  to  my  remembrance  of  his  faithful 
friends." 

The  body  of  Peter  III.  had  been  obscurely  buried  in 
the  convent  of  St.  Alexander  Newski.  Paul  repaired 
thither.  The  astonished  monks  conducted  him  to  that  for- 
saken tomb ;  the  coffin  was  opened ;  the  Emperor  kneeled 
down,  and  seizing  the  glove,  which  still  covered  the  withered 
hand,  he  kissed  it  with  emotion  and  respect  Solemn 
obsequies  were  ordained;  and  all  who  might  feel  their 


20  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

presence  at  the  funeral  ceremonies  as  a  just  and  memora- 
ble reproof  were  constrained  to  take  part  in  them. 

But  formidable  symptoms  soon  gained  the  ascendency 
in  Paul's  character.  His  reprisals  on  his  mother's  reign 
were  pushed  to  an  injurious  and  puerile  extreme.  Rings 
which  bore  upon  an  enamel  shield  the  date  of  Catharine's 
death,  had  been  distributed  to  the  court  so  long  under  her 
sway.  Her  son  was  jealous  of  these  rings ;  and,  not  con- 
tent with  proscribing  them,  he  gave  out  others,  on  which 
was  engraved,  "  Paul  is  my  consolation."  His  arrogance 
was  as  alert  as  his  jealousy.  General  Dumouriez,  having 
on  one  occasion  missed  the  hour  appointed  for  an  inter- 
view, excused  himself  by  laying  the  blame  upon  a  person 
of  considerable  importance  in  the  empire,  whom  he  had 
met.  "  Understand,  monsieur,"  replied  Paul,  "  that  there 
is  no  considerable  personage  in  my  house,  save  he  with 
whom  I  am  conversing  for  the  time  being." 

The  Empress  Mary  controlled  his  fits  of  passion,  but 
only  by  dint  of  sweetness,  humility,  and  patience.  Ca- 
pricious exactions,  excessive  fatigue,  distasteful  exercise, 
she  underwent  with  a  smile.  Neither  prostrating  heat  nor 
freezing  snow  interrupted  their  horseback  rides.  The 
Emperor  delighted  to  station  her  on  some  elevated  point, 
to  serve  as  an  aim  or  a  landmark  for  military  manoeuvres. 
It  was  a  rare  thing  for  her  to  be  released  from  this  painful 
situation  short  of  some  hours,  and  occasionally  she  was  for- 
gotten for  a  whole  day.  The  serenity  of  her  spirit  was 
never  visibly  altered  by  these  things ;  but  Mile.  Soymonof, 
who,  at  a  subsequent  period,  was  to  appreciate,  anticipate, 
and  console  so  many  sorrows,  began  even  then  to  guess 
the  secret  of  deceitful  prosperity  and  silent  tears. 

Under  this  wholesome  guardianship,  Sophia  Soymonof 
attained  her  seventeenth  year.  Residence  at  court  had  not 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  21 

rendered  her  idle,  and  emulation  had  stimulated  her  in  her 
accomplishments.  Crayon  drawings  of  hers  are  still  in 
existence,  which  would  do  honor  to  a  professional  artist. 
Her  voice  —  rich,  sonorous,  flexible,  and  of  extraordinary 
compass  —  was  trained  in  the  scientific  and  affecting  har- 
monies of  the  North,  as  well  as  in  the  brilliant  melodies  of 
Italy.  She  sang  music  at  sight,  and  accompanied  herself 
upon  the  piano. 

Her  personal  appearance  was  not  remarkable ;  but  her 
face,  her  gestures,  and  the  accents  of  her  voice,  were  en- 
dowed with  an  indefinable  sympathetic  charm.  Her  blue 
eyes  were  small,  and  slightly  irregular,  but  lively  and  kind. 
She  had  a  piquant,  Calmuck  nose,  and  a  brilliantly  fresh 
complexion.  Her  height  was  medium,  her  gait  graceful 
and  easy,  her  lightest  word  and  movement  stamped  alike 
with  refinement  and  distinction. 

At  an  early  age,  she  had  numerous  and  ardent  suitors. 
M.  Soymonof  could  not  see  falling  around  him  the  men 
whom  Catharine  had  invested  with  the  highest  offices,  with- 
out a  fear  that  he,  in  his  turn,  might  fall  into  disgrace. 
He  therefore  made  haste  to  insure  his  daughter  a  brilliant 
lot  in  life,  and,  at  all  events,  a  protector.  His  eye  fell 
upon  General  Swetchine,  a  man  who  enjoyed  a  high  repu- 
tation, whose  career  had  been  illustrious,  and  who  was 
already  his  own  personal  friend.  He  was  forty -two  years 
of  age ;  a  tall  man,  of  imposing  presence,  with  a  firm, 
upright  character,  and  a  calm  and  kindly  spirit.  Sophia 
acquiesced  in  this  choice,  as  in  all  which  emanated  from 
her  father,  with  loving  deference.  She  had  lost  her  mother 
several  years  before ;  and  what  specially  attracted  her  in 
this  union  was  the  certainty  that  she  would  not  be  separ- 
ated from  her  little  sister,  but  might  continue  to  lavish  her 
care  upon  her,  and  supply  to  her  a  mother's  place. 


22  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Among  the  Russian  noblemen  whose  wishes  this  mar- 
riage frustrated,  there  was  a  young  man  whose  birth,  for- 
tune, and  rare  qualities  of  mind,  opened  to  him  a  great 
destiny,  —  the  Baron,  afterwards  Count,  Strogonof.  He 
made  no  secret  either  of  his  preference  or  his  disappoint- 
ment. The  wife  herself  could  not  ignore  them,  but  she 
forbade  their  expression ;  and,  when  young  Strogonof  had 
resigned  himself  to  another  marriage,  Mme.  Swetchine 
became  the  truest  and  most  faithful  friend  of  his  wife. 

M.  Soymonof's  keen  enjoyment  of  a  union  which  prom- 
ised such  security  and  consolation  to  his  declining  years 
was  of  short  duration.  The  harsh  mandate  of  the  Em- 
peror suspended  him,  before  his  daughter  or  his  son-in-law 
had  time  to  intercede  in  his  behalf.  He  must  leave  St. 
Petersburg  immediately.  Moscow  offered  him  a  natural 
and  honorable  asylum,  and  thither  he  went.  But  his  bitter 
sense  of  disgrace,  the  separation  from  his  darling  daughter, 
and  his  freezing  reception  by  a  friend  on  whom  he  had 
specially  relied,  plunged  him  in  unconquerable  melancholy. 
A  severe  stroke  of  apoplexy  snatched  him  away  at  a 
moment  when  those  who  loved  him  were  thinking  only  of 
facilitating  his  return. 

A  sorrow  so  profound  overthrew  Mme.  Swetchine,  and 
forced  her  to  her  knees.  That  first  solitude  of  the  soul ; 
that  need  of  a  support  which  had  never  failed  her,  and 
whose  loss  she  had  never  faced,  —  lifted  her  eyes  at  once  to 
heaven.  Her  first  prayer  sprang  from  her  first  trial ;  and, 
when  she  could  no  longer  say  "  My  father,"  she  cried,  k'  My 
God ! " 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  23 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  French  emigres  in  Russia.  —  Their  connection  with  Mine.  Swetchine. 
—  Reign  of  the  Emperor  Paul.  —  Courageous  generosity  of  General 
Swetchine.  —  His  high  position  at  court.  —  His  disgrace.  —  Extracts 
from  Mine.  Swetchine's  letters. 

THE  military  position  of  General  Swetchine  necessi- 
tated his  presence  at  St.  Petersburg.  He  was  soon 
to  be  promoted  to  an  active  and  important  post.  Mme. 
Swetchine  was  therefore  obliged  to  remain  in  the  world ; 
and  she  became  mistress  of  a  great  mansion  at  a  time 
of  absorbing  personal  sorrow.  Constraint,  subordination  of 
all  her  own  impulses  to  the  convenience  of  others,  and  sub- 
mission to  a  multitude  of  duties  morally  unimportant,  but 
from  a  worldly  point  of  view  imperative,  dated,  for  this 
young  woman,  from  the  first  day  of  her  so-called  indepen- 
dence. Thus  her  mind,  naturally  inclined  to  precocious 
maturity,  became  more  and  more  meditative.  God  was  the 
constant  object  of  her  unquiet  thought.  She  sought  him, 
appealed  to  him,  questioned  him.  He  was  already  her 
favorite  subject  of  study,  but  not,  as  yet,  the  sole  treasure 
of  her  heart. 

The  society  in  which  she  occupied,  from  her  first  appear- 
ance, a  distinguished  rank,  was,  at  that  time,  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  in  Europe.  The  French  Revolution  had 
introduced  into  it  an  element  rather  new  than  foreign, 
which  appealed  to  the  mind  of  Mme.  Swetchine  in  the 
liveliest  manner.  The  most  distinguished  guests  from 
Paris  and  Versailles,  when  they  sought  the  protection  of 


24  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINK. 

the  most  intrinsically  despotic  of  governments,  became 
sometimes,  unconsciously  to  themselves,  a  warning  of  the 
futility  and  peril  of  many  an  illusion.  The  emigres  who 
undertook  the  far  journey  to  Russia  were,  in  general,  those 
whom  the  proscription  had  not  utterly  impoverished,  and 
whom  Paul  had  known  personally,  when,  under  the  name 
of  Count  du  Nord,  he  had  paid  a  visit  to  France,  —  happy 
and  proud,  as  yet,  of  the  new  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  and 
Marie  Antoinette. 

Paul  had  ascended  the  throne  between  the  Reign  of 
Terror  and  the  Consulate,  and  considered  himself  bound  in 
honor  to  accept  the  challenge  of  the  French  Revolution. 
He  had  offered  to  Louis  XVIII.  a  royal  residence  in  his 
dominions.  He  had  desired  to  sign  the  marriage  contract 
of  the  Duke  d'Angouleme  and  the  orphan  of  the  Temple ; 
and,  by  his  orders,  a  copy  of  the  act  was  deposited  in  the 
senatorial  archives.  The  Prince  de  Conde,  who  had  enter- 
tained the  Emperor  at  Chantilly,  was  established  in  the 
Hotel  Tchernitchef,  with  a  livery  and  table-service  bearing 
his  arms.  During  the  few  days  of  necessary  preparation, 
the  palace  of  the  Tauride  was  placed  at  his  disposal ;  and 
the  grand-dukes  and  principal  dignitaries  of  St.  Peters- 
burg repaired  to  the  saloons  of  Potemkin  to  do  homage  to 
a  French  prince  in  their  own  country,  before  he  had  him- 
self paid  his  respects  to  the  sovereign  of  the  land.  The 
Empress  had  bestowed  the  office  of  dame  a  portrait  upon 
the  Princess  de  Tarente,  with  whom  the  Emperor  had 
become  acquainted  in  Paris,  at  the  houses  of  her  father, 
the  Duke  de  Chatillou,  and  her  grandfather,  the  Duke  de 
la  Valliere.  The  Duke  de  Richelieu  and  the  Count  de 
Langeron  received  places  of  trust  in  the  empire.  Young 
persons  were  eagerly  welcomed,  and  placed  in  the  army. 
The  drawing-rooms  of  St.  Petersburg,  and  especially  those 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  25 

of  General  Swetchine,  heard  daily  the  announcement  of 
names  which  had  echoed  in  Versailles  and  Trianon, — 
Broglie,  Crussol,  Damas,  D'Autichamp,  Rastignac,  Torcy, 
La  Garde,  La  Maisonfort,  Saint  Priest.  The  Marquis  de 
Ferte,  and,  subsequently,  the  Count  de  Blacas,  were  ac- 
credited as  representatives  of  the  King  of  France. 

An  ambassador  of  the  Order  of  Malta  had  come  to 
salute  his  new  Grand  Master  in  the  person  of  the  Emperor 
Paul.  The  Abbe  Georgel,  the  old  vicar-general  of  the 
Cardinal  de  Rohan,  accompanied  this  ambassador ;  and  one 
page  of  his  memoirs  is  devoted  to  Mme.  Swetchine.  It 
will  be  interesting  to  those  who  knew  the  general;  for 
they  will  recognize,  after  a  lapse  of  fifty  years,  the  same 
courtesy  which  distinguished  him  to  extreme  old  age.  The 
Maltese  ambassador  had  encountered  some  police  difficulties 
on  his  arrival,  and  had  received  an  order  to  report  himself 
at  daybreak  at  the  house  of  the  military  commandant. 
"  The  General,"  says  the  Abbe  Georgel,  "  received  us  with 
infinite  grace  and  frankness,  and  made  a  thousand  apolo- 
gies ;  adding,  that  the  order  to  report  to  him  so  promptly 
regarded  only  Russian  officers,  and  that  so  severe  a  regu- 
lation must  give  strangers  a  very  unfavorable  idea  of  Rus- 
sian politeness.  He  took  pains  to  inform  us  about  the 
maladies  prevalent  at  St.  Petersburg,  indicated  the  pre- 
cautions necessary  to  secure  one's  self  against  them,  and 
the  remedies  which  had  been  used  successfully  in  case  of  an 
attack.  His  reception  and  conversation  indemnified  us  for 
our  too  early  start." 

The  Revolution  had  also  cast  ashore  at  St.  Petersburg 
several  eminent  members  of  the  French  clergy. 

The  Abbe  Nicolle,  already  celebrated  as  a  teacher,  had 
accompanied  from  Constantinople  to  Russia  the  children 
of  the  Count  de  Choiseul-Gouffier,  author  of  the  "  Voyage 


26  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCH1NE. 

Pittoresque  en  Grece."  He  was  permitted  to  found  an 
educational  institute ;  summoned  to  his  side  French  assist- 
ants ;  and  became,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years,  the  master, 
counsellor,  and  friend  of  the  young  elite  of  St.  Petersburg. 
The  Galitzin,  Luboinirski  Narishkin,  Gargarin,  Menchikof, 
Orlof,  were  among  his  first  pupils.  The  Duke  Louis  of 
Wurtemberg  intrusted  his  son  to  his  care.  The  Jesuits, 
whom  the  Empress  Catharine  had  never  consented  to  sac- 
rifice to  the  demands  of  Paris  or  of  Ferney,  gathered  to- 
gether, at  St.  Petersburg,  under  the  generalship  of  Father 
Griiber,  the  debris  of  their  French  houses.  Father  Rosa- 
ven,  so  long  an  object  of  veneration  at  Rome,  was  so  at 
that  time  in  Russia :  and  when,  at  the  age  of  more  than 
eighty  years,  he  paid  a  last  visit  to  his  family  in  Brittany, 
his  remembrance  of  Mme.  Swetchine  induced  him  to  stop 
at  Paris ;  and  the  tender-hearted  old  man  lingered  some 
days,  on  the  journey  from  his  birthplace  to  his  tomb,  with 
the  early  friend  of  his  exile. 

The  merit  of  such  acts  of  devotion  entailing  voluntary 
privations,  the  virtue  of  these  brave  examples  came  by 
degrees  to  act  upon  the  society  of  St.  Petersburg  like  an 
eloquent  apostolate.  One  of  these  chivalrous  apostles  was 
a  man  unknown  to  fame,  —  M.  d'Augard,  an  old  officer 
of  the  French  marine.  He  had  devoted  himself  to  the 
Christian  life  under  the  inspiration  of  Father  Beauregard, 
at  the  close  of  a  sermon  preached  in  1776,  in  which  the 
preacher  had  declared,  in  prophetic  words,  that  the  axe  was 
to  be  lifted  above  the  head  of  the  king,  that  a  sacrilegious 
hammer  would  beat  down  the  tabernacle  of  our  altars,  and 
a  pagan  divinity  sit  in  the  place  of  the  living  God  under 
the  consecrated  vault  of  our  temples.  From  that  day 
forth,  religion  and  science  shared  his  life  between  them. 
Fifteen  years  later,  having  resolved  to  leave  the  country. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  27 

he  paid  a  final  visit  to  Mme.  Elizabeth,  who  had  always 
shown  him  peculiar  kindness ;  and  that  princess  herself 
placed  in  his  hands  a  prayer  of  her  own  composition,  which 
she  constantly  addressed  to  God  for  the  king  and  France. 
The  Chevalier  d'Augard,  recommended  to  the  notice  of 
the  Empress  Catharine  by  so  lofty  a  suffrage,  was  appointed 
assistant  director  of  the  imperial  libraries.  At  the  same 
time,  he  became  one  of  the  most  intimate  and  constant 
guests  at  the  drawing-room  of  Mme.  Swetchine.  He  had 
neither  the  superior  mental  endowments,  nor  the  religious 
fervor,  which  afterwards  distinguished  Count  de  Maistre ; 
and,  in  his  humility,  he  did  not  aspire  to  ascendency:  but 
the  very  simplicity  and  essentially  French  grace  of  his 
mind,  his  gayety  in  company,  the  sweet  frankness  with 
which  he  expressed  his  convictions  in  any  serious  contro- 
versy, exercised  an  influence  all  the  more  irresistible  that 
people  did  not  dream  of  being  on  their  guard  against  it. 
He  deserved,  in  short,  that,  after  the  lapse  of  thirty  years, 
Mme.  Swetchine  should  protest,  in  the  following  words, 
against  the  oblivion  into  which  the  memory  of  her  modest 
friend  had  fallen.  In  reply  to  a  letter  announcing  the  con- 
version of  a  young  Russian,  she  wrote :  — 

"Like  you,  I  thought  of  Count  de  Maistre,  and  the  fine 
solemnity  of  Chambery.  One  ought  to  revive  his  memory  at 
the  accomplishment  of  every  act  like  this ;  for  he  sowed  much 
seed,  though  far  from  being  the  first  in  the  field.  The  honor 
of  the  introduction  of  Catholicism  among  the  Russians  belongs 
to  the  Chevalier  d'Augard,  the  old  chevalier  of  St.  Louis. 
Not  even  a  beginning  had  been  made ;  but  when  not  merely 
the  execution  of  such  a  work,  but  even  the  unexpressed/  desire 
for  it,  seemed  absurd  and  impracticable,  it  was  for  the  genius 
of  iaith  to  conceive  and  rely  upon  it.  I  never  see  a  '  seventy- 
four'  without  rendering  a  more  lively  and  appreciative  homage 
to  the  canoe  of  the  first  navigator." ' 

1  Letter  to  P.  Gargarin,  Sept.  19,  1844. 


28  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Paul  did  not  confine  himself  to  the  personal  consolation 
of  the  proscribed  and  impoverished  servants  of  the  French 
monarchy,  —  the  eldest,  and  for  so  long  a  time  the  model, 
of  the  European  monarchies.  He  set  on  foot  three  armies. 
One  he  threw  forward  into  Holland,  in  aid  of  the  Eng- 
lish ;  the  second  he  despatched  to  Switzerland ;  the  third, 
under  the  command  of  Souvarof,  he  opposed  to  McDonald 
and  Massena  in  Italy.  It  was  this  Souvarof,  a  genuine 
Sarmatian  soldier,  who  never  slept  in  a  bed.  "  I  hate 
laziness,"  he  used  to  say.  "  I  keep  a  cock  in  my  tent, 
that  wakes  me  promptly  ;  and,  when  I  want  to  give  myself 
up  to  comfortable  slumber,  I  take  off  one  of  my  spurs ; " 
a  saying  often  repeated  in  Russia,  and  whose  application 
Mme.  Swetchine  was  soon  to  extend  from  military  to 
Christian  heroism. 

While  Souvarof  was  conducting  the  Russian  armies 
into  unfamiliar  latitudes,  and  bearing  away  the  palm  of 
victory  from  adversaries  unaccustomed  to  defeat,  Paul, 
unhappily  for  himself  and  Russia,  was  yielding  more  and 
more  to  the  extravagant  impulses  of  a  tyrannical  temper. 
Punishment  and  reward  were  lavished  in  obedience  to 
the  first  promptings  of  unreflecting  wrath  or  favoritism. 
The  places  at  court  ordinarily  reserved  for  the  oldest 
families  in  the  empire  were  bestowed  upon  subalterns 
selected  from  the  house-servants,  in  whose  presence  he 
felt  under  no  restraint.  At  the  memorable  siege  of 
Bender,  the  Russians,  urged  to  extreme  measures  by  an 
obstinate  defence,  had  slaughtered  the  women  and  chil- 
dren. A  young  Tartar  moved  the  heart  of  the  victors 
by  his  beauty,  and  his  childlike  grace  turned  aside  the 
mortal  blow.  Prince  Repna  paid  his  ransom,  and  made 
a  present  of  him  to  Catharine  II. ;  and  Catharine,  in  turn, 
gave  him  to  her  son,  under  the  name  of  Koutaisof.  Paul 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  29 

took  a  fancy  to  him,  made  him  his  favorite  valet  de  cham- 
bre,  and  the  confidant,  now  of  his  pleasures,  and  now  of 
his  murmurs  against  his  mother.  When  Paul  finally 
ascended  the  throne,  he  bestowed  upon  him  one  title  after 
another,  until  he  had  raised  him  to  the  position  of  a  Narish- 
kin.  Koutaisof  flattered  Paul,  and  everybody  else  flattered 
Koutaisof.  Thenceforward  the  imperial  caprice  knew  no 
bounds.  One  day,  ukases  interdicted  pantaloons  and  frock- 
coats  ;  the  next,  the  universities  were  forbidden  to  employ 
the  word  revolution  in  speaking  of  the  courses  of  the 
stars.  Police  regulations  were  multiplied  to  infinity, 
entailing  intolerable  vexations.  An  order,  posted  in  the 
public  squares  of  the  capital,  enjoined,  that,  whenever 
the  Emperor  passed  through  the  streets,  whether  on  foot, 

—  which  was  comparatively  rare,  —  or  on  horseback  or  in  a 
carriage,  —  which  was  happening  continually,  —  every  one 
should  stop  ;  descend  from  his  carriage,  if  riding ;  uncover, 
take  off  his  pelisse,  and  remain  with  bowed  head  while 
His  Majesty  passed.     A  young  merchant,  for  an  involun- 
tary transgression,  was  sentenced  to  fifty  blows  of  the  knout, 

—  a  punishment  all  but  mortal.     A  young  lady,  known 
and  beloved  at  the  court,  saw  her  carriage  seized  by  the 
police  for  the  same  offence,  and  fainted.     Her  indignant 
family  hastened  to  appeal  to  the  Emperor.     Paul  took 
grave  cognizance  of  the  facts,  pardoned  the  coachman  on 
condition  of  his  joining  the  army,  exempted  the  carriage 
and   horses  from   confiscation,  but   sentenced  the  young 
lady  to  eight  days  of  seclusion  for  her  failure  in  decorum, 
and  administered  the  same  corrective  to  an  aunt  who  had 
adopted  her,  for  having  taught  her  ill.1 

The  Emperor  disciplined  his  own  family  no  less  severely. 
A  single  slip  in  etiquette,  an  irregularity  in  the  manner 
1  Memoirs  of  the  Abbd  Georgel. 


30  LIFE    OF    MADAME    S\VETCIIINE. 

of  kissing  the  hand,  drew  down  upon  the  grand-dukes 
and  grand-duchesses  several  days,  and  sometimes  a  week, 
of  arrest.  The  grand-dukes  were  the  victims  of  inces- 
sant military  parades.  Alexander  excelled  in  the  drill, 
and  Constantine  was  unequalled  as  a  drummer.1 

An  equally  minute  surveillance  was  exercised  over  all 
the  different  army  corps  far  and  near.  Officers  were 
seized  without  warning,  thrown  into  sledges,  and  dragged 
breathless  before  courts-martial,  sometimes  into  the  very 
presence  of  the  Emperor.  Hesitancy  or  intimidation 
was  considered  equivalent  to  confession,  and  the  most 
rigorous  sentences  were  pronounced  without  appeal.  One 
day  the  Emperor  charged  General  Swetchine  with  the 
execution  of  a  cruel  arrest  upon  a  certain  colonel.  The 
General  repaired  to  the  parade-ground ;  walked  up  to 
the  victim,  who  was  already  stripped  to  the  waist;  and 
said,  "  Here  is  your  sword.  Now  leave  St.  Petersburg 
instantly !  The  Emperor  pardons  you."  Retracing  his 
steps,  the  General  goes  up  to  the  Emperor's  apartment. 
"Sire,  here  is  my  head!  I  have  not  executed  Your 
Majesty's  orders.  The  Colonel  is  free,  I  have  restored 
him  to  life  and  honor.  Now  let  the  blow  fall  on  me  in- 
stead ! "  The  Emperor  pressed  the  General's  arm  vio- 
lently, hesitated,  and  said,  "  You  have  done  well !  I  re- 
gretted not  having  spoken  to  the  Grand-duke  Alexander 
on  the  subject."  And  he  added,  "  Let  this,  at  least,  never 
be  known  at  St.  Petersburg ! " 

The  conduct  of  foreign  affairs  was  as  rash  and  incon- 
sequent as  the  internal  administration  of  the  empire. 
Dissatisfied  with  the  proceedings  of  Austria  in  Italy, 
and  irritated  against  England  on  the  subject  of  the  Isle 
of  Malta,  Paul  suddenly  recalled  his  armies,  tore  up  his 

1  Recollections  of  General  Swetchine. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  31 

treaties,  ordered  the  Bourbons  to  quit  his  dominions, 
and  opened  negotiations  with  the  First  Consul,  in  which  he 
was  pleased  to  display  a  chivalrous  enthusiasm.  There  was 
a  caricature  circulated  in  Europe  at  that  period,  repre- 
senting the  Czar  bearing  upon  one  side  of  his  face,  Order; 
on  the  other,  Counter-order;  and  on  the  forehead,  Disorder. 
In  the  midst  of  these  sudden  revolutions,  from  which 
no  situation  or  order  of  ideas  was  exempt,  General  Swet- 
chine  maintained  his  position ;  and  the  Emperor  even  re- 
doubled his  favors.  The  General  had  received  the  post 
of  military  commandant;  and  subsequently  he  was  in- 
trusted with  the  functions  of  provisional  governor  of 
St.  Petersburg.  This  last  piece  of  preferment  made  him 
either  a  dangerous  obstacle  or  a  necessary  accomplice 
in  the  case  of  those  projects  for  a  compulsory  abdication 
which  were  hatching  in  the  shade.  The  General  himself 
has  described  one  supreme  event  in  his  career,  whose  story 
no  one  else  would  have  had  the  right  to  furnish  us :  — 

"  Of  all  the  personages  who  came  to  congratulate  me  on  my 
appointment  as  governor-general,  the  Admiral  11.  was  the  most 
flattering  in  his  encomiums.  He  came  to  my  wife's  soirees,  and 

succeeded  in  making  himself  conspicuous  there.    Count 

also  paid  his  respects  to  the  new  governor,  contrary  to  his 
dignified  rule  of  visiting  no  one.  He  invited  me  to  call  on 
him,  and  talk  over  some  matters  of  business ;  and  accordingly 
I  repaired  to  his  house  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  With  the 
exception  of  the  porter,  the  mansion  was  empty,  —  not  a  ser- 
vant to  be  seen.  The  Count  received  me,  candlestick  in  hand ; 
apprised  me  that  he  was  alone,  and  conducted  me  to  a  remote 
cabinet.  '  General,'  said  he,  '  I  have  to  acquaint  you,  as  mili- 
tary commandant,  with  a  plot  which  has  been  formed  against 
the  Emperor.  I  am  its  president.  Mindful  of  the  glorious 
estate  of  Russia  on  the  death  of  the  Empress,  mortified  at 
seeing  her  isolated  from  Europe,  and  stripped  of  all  her  alli- 
ances, an  assembly  of  the  most  distinguished  individuals  in 
the  nation  proposes,  with  the  countenance  of  England,  to 
overthrow  the  present  violent  and  disgraceful  government, 
and  place  upon  the  throne  the  heir  presumptive,  —  the  Grand- 


32  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

duke  Alexander, — whose  youth  and  well-known  sentiments 
inspire  us  with  high  hopes.  Our  plan  is  matured ;  the  means 
of  execution  may  be  relied  on  ;  the  conspirators  are  numerous. 
It  is  proposed  to  invest  the  palace  of  Saint  Michel  as  soon  as 
the  Emperor  shall  take  possession,  and  demand  his  abdication 
in  favor  of  his  son.  The  Emperor  will  be  treated  as  upstate 
prisoner,  confined  in  the  fortress,  and  guarded  with  all  the 
consideration  due  the  father  of  the  sovereign.  We  cannot, 
however,  answer  for  the  accidents  which  may  attend  the  pas- 
sage of  the  Neva  when  the  ice  is  breaking  up,  and  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night.  What  I  wish  to  know  now  is  the  part 
you  will  take  in  this  national  crisis.' 

"  '  Monsieur  le  Comte,  I  do  not  share  the  opinion,  that  pri- 
vate individuals  possess  any  right  to  change  the  order  of  a 
government  to  suit  themselves.  The  sovereigns,  or  hereditary 
chiefs  of  nations,  are,  in  my  view,  beings  who  cannot  abdicate. 
A  sick  or  imbecile  king,  such  as  we  have  seen  in  other  coun- 
tries, may  properly  be  replaced  by  a  council  of  regency ;  but 
the  deaths  of  Charles  I.  and  Louis  XVI.  were  assassinations, 
crimes  of  high  treason.  That  is  my  opinion.  My  intention  is 
to  play  my  proper  part,  and  not  change,  like  Harlequin  in  the 
play.  For  the  rest,  give  yourself  no  uneasiness.  1  shall  not 
abuse  your  confidence  nor  obtain  emoluments  for  myself  by  a 
mean  denunciation.  The  law  gives  me  the  right  and  the  means 
of  ferreting  out  this  conspiracy  for  myself:  I  shall  proceed  to 
do  so.  Forget  what  I  have  said,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  and  pray 
regard  our  interview  as  a  dream.' 

"A  few  davs  later,  Admiral  R.  paid  me  a  visit,  and  asked 
me  this  question :  '  General,  if  the  improbable  contingency 
of  an  insurrection  should  occur,  and  you  should  be  forced 
to  decide  one  way  or  another,  what  part  should  you  take  ?  ' 
—  '  I  should  take  counsel  of  my  honor,  and  abide  by  my  oath.' 
The  Admiral  threw  his  arms  about  my  neck,  embraced  me 
cordially,  and  advised  me  to  persevere  in  my  fidelity.  Two 
days  afterwards  I  was  appointed  senator,  and  the  same  evening 
relieved  of  iny  command."  l 

Shortly  after  the  sudden  disgrace  of  General  Swet- 
chine,  Count  Palken  was  named  governor,  ad  interim,  of 
St.  Petersburg.  Paul  took  possession  of.the  palace  of  Saint 
Michel,  oppressed  by  strange  visions  and  melancholy  fore- 
bodings. On  the  12th  of  March,  1801,  he  was  no  more. 

1  Recollections  of  General  Swetchine. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  33 

The  Grand-duke  Alexander,  proclaimed  at  midnight  by 
the  sombre  gleam  of  torches  and  flambeaux,  offered  at 
first  an  energetic  resistance ;  but  the  chief  of  the  con- 
spirators approached  him,  and  whispered  these  words  in 
his  ear,  "  You  are  to  reign,  and  you  shall  reign  !  "  and  the 
Grand-duke  was  lifted  in  the  arms  of  soldiers,  and  hurried 
off  to  the  cathedral,  where  the  clergy  and  the  people  soon 
assembled. 

General  Swetchine  and  wife  did  not,  on  his  quitting 
office,  remove  to  a  great  distance  from  St.  Petersburg. 
Their  estates  were  very  remote ;  and  the  Russian  aristoc- 
racy does  not  affect  country  life.  Moscow  had  no  charms 
for  them  since  the  death  of  M.  Soymonof ;  and  they  con- 
tinued to  reside  in  the  midst  of  a  large  circle  of  friends 
whom  they  had  chosen  independently,  and  now  retained. 
The  interchange  of  philosophical  and  literary  ideas  occu- 
pied a  place  in  their  drawing-room,  which  was  shared,  but 
never  usurped,  by  the  politics  of  the  day,  so  fruitful  in 
catastrophes.  Then  were  knit  those  ties  whose  strength  was 
yearly  attested  in  Paris,  —  attachments  always  tinged  with 
reverence,  and  which  time  had  no  power  to  weaken.  From 
that  period  also,  Mme.  Swetchine,  whose  health  had  long 
presented  some  very  singular  phenomena,  became  the 
victim  of  sufferings  which  must  have  broken  a  spirit 
less  energetic  than  her  own.  The  physicians  had  already 
declared  that  she  could  never  know  the  happiness  of 
maternity ;  and  she  sought  to  console  herself  under  this 
severe  sentence,  by  taking  redoubled  pains  with  the  edu- 
cation of  her  young  sister,  by  multiplying  her  affectionate 
and  respectful  attentions  to  General  Swetchine,  and  last, 
but  not  least,  by  consecrating  to  industrious  study  the 
moments  unclaimed  by  her  heart,  which  she  always  con- 
sulted first. 

3 


34  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Reading  with  her  was  never  a  simple  relaxation.  She 
had  not  done  with  a  book  until  she  had  filled  it  with  her 
notes  and  comments,  and,  in  some  cases,  copied  it  entire. 
The  earliest  of  these  enormous  masses  of  extracts  bear 
date  in  1801,  —  that  is,  in  her  nineteenth  year,  and  the 
second  of  her  marriage.  These  collections  are  no  luxu- 
rious albums,  not  even  volumes  purposely  prepared.  They 
are  common  paper  note-books,  covered  with  fine  and  close 
writing,  and  afterwards  bound  up  for  the  sake  of  pre- 
serving and  keeping  them  in  order,  as  we  see  from 
the  lines  being  taken  in  with  the  binding  at  the  back, 
and  the  absence  of  words  cut  away  by  the  paring  of  the 
margins.  There  are  thirty-five  of  these  volumes  in  ex- 
istence, besides  some  that  have  been  lost.  The  smallest 
are  in  octavo ;  thirty  are  quarto. 

Whatever  of  interest  and  emotion  these  books  repre- 
sent for  Mme.  Swetchine  may,  by  a  singular  coincidence, 
be  described  in  the  words  of  Count  de  Maistre,  at  that 
time  a  wanderer  in  Switzerland,  Italy,  and  Sardinia,  who 
was  to  make  her  acquaintance  only  at  the  last  stage  of 
his  protracted  exile.  "  You  see  these  immense  volumes 
on  my  table,"  says  Count  de  Maistre  hi  his  "  Soirees 
de  St.  Petersburg."  — "  There,  for  thirty  years,  I  have 
noted  down  all  the  most  striking  things  I  have  encoun- 
tered hi  my  reading.  Sometimes  I  confine  myself  to 
simple  indications,  and  at  others  I  transcribe  important 
passages,  word  for  word.  Often  I  accompany  them  with 
comments,  and  often  also  I  have  jotted  down  here  those 
instantaneous  thoughts,  those  sudden  flashes,  which  are 
extinguished  without  fruition,  if  their  brilliancy  be  not 
fixed  in  writing.  Swept  by  the  storms  of  revolution 
through  many  of  the  countries  of  Europe,  I  have  never 
parted  with  this  collection  )•  and,  now,  you  would  scarcely 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  35 

believe  what  enjoyment  I  have  in  reviewing  it.  Every 
passage  awakens  a  throng  of  interesting  ideas  and  plain- 
tive memories,  sweeter  a  thousand -fold  than  what  we 
ordinarily  call  pleasures" 

For  Mme.  Swetchine,  as  for  M.  de  Maistre,  these 
voluminous  extracts  represent  the  successive  stages  of  her 
mind's  journey ;  and,  under  this  aspect,  some  fragments 
will  be  presented  to  the  public. 

The  first  volume  commences  with  the  year  1801 ;  and 
the  earlier  pages  are  devoted  to  Barthelemy's  "Traite 
de  Morale."  The  precepts  of  Pythagoras  also  figure 
largely.  Bernardin  de  Saint  Pierre  comes  next  in  order ; 
then  follow  long  and  dolorous  pages  from  Young's 
"Night  Thoughts." 

Fenelon  is  represented  in  the  first  volume  by  a  letter 
to  Mme.  de  Maintenon. 

Short  fragments  of  Mme.  de  Genlis,  and  some  letters 
of  Micheau  to  the  Abbe  Delille,  and  translations  from 
Horace,  are  intermingled  with  fragments  from  a  poem  of 
La  Harpe  on  Woman. 

A  large  space  is  devoted  to  Rousseau,  but  there  is  not 
a  line  from  Voltaire.  Even  before  she  left  Russia,  Mme. 
Swetchine  wrote  to  a  young  friend,  "  I  have  rarely  been 
able  to  read  Voltaire  without  being  painfully  affected, 
while  Young's  'Night  Thoughts'  often  leave  me  in  an 
agreeable  frame  of  mind."  The  quotations  from  the 
"  Nouvelle  Helo'ise  "  are  numerous.  The  candid  mind  of 
this  young  woman,  which  was  offended  by  the  levity  and 
smartness  of  Voltaire,  seems  to  have  been  dazzled  by 
the  pompous  sentimentality  of  Rousseau.  The  Preface 
to  the  "  Nouvelle  Helo'ise  "  is  carefully  analysed ;  and  the 
apology  for  the  moral  romance,  as  then  understood,  is  re- 
produced in  perfect  good  faith. 


36  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"  If  romances  offered  to  their  readers  only  pictures  of  actual 
objects,  duties  which  it  is  possible  to  fulfil,  and  pleasures  suited 
to  their  condition,  they  would  no  longer  make  their  readers 
fools,  but  wise,"  &c. 

The  most  intense  pages  of  St.  Preux  to  Julie  are  not 
excluded. 

"  O  Julie !  what  a  fatal  gift  of  heaven  it  is  to  have  a  sensitive 
soul,"  &c. 

But  it  is  the  descriptions  of  nature,  and  the  ex- 
hortations to  virtue,  simple  manners,  and  study,  which 
especially  attract  the  sympathies  of  Mine.  Swetchine  to 
Rousseau. 

"  O  my  friend  !  what  an  argument  against  the  sceptic  is  the 
life  of  the  true  Christian  ! "  &c. 

Side  by  side  with  Rousseau,  we  find  Marmontel.  "  Beli- 
saire  "  had  enjoyed  a  great  popularity  throughout  Europe, 
but  particularly  in  Russia.  Speaking  of  some  of  the  in- 
cidents which  preceded  the  publication  of  his  work,  Mar- 
montel says,  in  his  "  Memoirs,"  "  I  dreaded  allusions, 
malicious  applications,  and  the  accusation  of  having  had 
in  my  mind  another  than  Justinian  when  I  portrayed  a 
weak  and  wicked  monarch.  The  King  of  Prussia  felt 
it  so  much,  that,  on  the  reception  of  the  work,  he  wrote 
with  his  own  hand,  at  the  foot  of  a  letter  of  his  Secre- 
tary Lecat,  '  I  have  just  read  the  opening  chapters  of 
your  "  Belisaire : "  you  are  a  bold  man.'  But,"  adds 
Marmontel,  "  while  the  Sorbonne  condemned  my  book, 
letters  reached  me  on  all  hands  from  the  sovereigns  of 
Europe,  and  her  wisest  and  most  illustrious  men,  full 
of  encomiums  on  the  volume,  which  they  declared  ought 
to  become  the  breviary  of  kings.  The  Empress  translated 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  37 

it  into  Russian,  and  dedicated  the  translation  to  an  arch- 
bishop of  her  own  country."  The  "  Be"lisaire "  of  Mar- 
rnontel,  therefore,  figures  largely  among  Mme.  Swetchine's 
readings. 

But  there  is  no  lack  of  satire ;  and  we  get  glimpses 
of  the  excesses  and  eccentricities  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. After  that  description  of  Maupertuis  by  himself, 
''  I  am  as  pale  as  death,  and  as  sad  as  life,"  we  find  the 
following  portrait  of  Fontenelle  :  — 

"  M.  de  Fontenelle  took  cognizance  of  nothing  but  mind. 
He  had  no  vices,  and  consequently  no  battle  to  fight.  He  never 
laughed.  One  day  I  said  to  him,  '  M.  de  Fontenelle,  did  you 
ever  laugh  ? '  — '  No  :  I  never  executed  an  ah !  ah  !  ah  ! '  That 
was  his  idea  of  laughter.  He  only  smiled  at  fine  things,  and 
never  knew  what  it  was  to  feel.  He  received  no  impressions 
from  others.  He  never  interrupted  anybody,  but  waited  at- 
tentively till  his  interlocutor  had  finished,  and  was  in  no  hurry 
about  his  reply.  If  you  had  brought  an  accusation  against 
him,  he  would  have  heard  you  all  day  without  saying  a  word. 
From  his  birth  up,  nothing  had  ever  moved  him.  He  resembled 
some  very  delicate  little  machine  which  will  last  for  ever,  if 
placed  in  a  corner  where  it  cannot  be  rubbed  or  jostled.  It 
is  to  his  absolute  apathy  that  his  long  life  must  be  attributed. 
His  mother  was  like  him.  He  speaks  of  both  his  parents  with 
the  same  indifference.  He  used  to  say,  '  My  lather  was  a 
brute,  but  my  mother  had  mind.  She  was  a  quietist ;  a  sweet 
little  woman,  who  used  often  to  say  to  me,  "  My  son,  you  will 
be  damned :  "  but  it  did  not  trouble  her.'  Fontenelle  never 
raised  his  voice  on  any  occasion  whatever,  and  did  not  speak  in 
a  earriage,  for  fear  he  should  be  obliged  to  do  so.  He  disliked 
music,  and  did  not  care  for  painting  or  sculpture  except  in 
their  relations  to  the  imagination.  He  loved  no  one.  People 
pleased  him  ;  but  the  word  '  love '  he  never  pronounced.  '  Do 
you  esteem  me  ? '  Mme.  Geoffrin  once  asked  him.  '  I  think  you 
are  very  agreeable.'  —  'But  what  if  some  one  should  come 
and  tell  you  that  I  had  cut  one  of  my  children's  throats,  — 
should  you  believe  him  ? '  —  'I  should  reserve  my  judg- 
ment.' " 

"  It  was  said  of  Diderot,  that  he  often  liked  to  converse 
•with  the  most  commonplace  people,  because  they  would  listen 
to  him.  He  was  like  a  man  playing  ball  against  a  wall, 


38  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

who  exclaims  at  each  rebound,   '  That  wall  plays  remarkably 
well!1" 

"A  correspondent  of  Ferney  once  said,  'I  have  just  re- 
ceived a  delightful  letter  from  Voltaire.  Let  me  read  you 
my  reply ! ' " 

"Mine.  Deffaud,  having  made  up  her  mind  to  reform, 
wrote,  'As  for  rouge  and  President  He"nault,  I  shall  not  do 
them  the  honor  of  forsaking  them.'  The  President,  on  the 
other  hand,  said,  just  after  his  conversion,  '  I  am  in  process 
of  bringing  all  my  sins  to  light  for  the  purpose  of  getting  rid  of 
them.  We  never  know  how  rich  we  are  till  we  break  up 
housekeeping ! ' " 

"  Mme.  Geoffrin  claimed  that,  having  always  been  up  with 
the  spirit  of  her  age,  her  years  and  her  tastes  had  kept  pace, 
like  two  perfectly  matched  horses." 

"  Voltaire  cared  very  little  for  the  country  ;  and  it  was  wittily 
said  of  his  '  Henriade,'  that  there  was  just  grass  enough  in  it 
for  the  horses." 

"  Tallien  once  had  the  audacity  to  say  to  the  Assembly, 
'  When  we  are  alone  with  the  people.'  So  artificial  had  life 
become  !  One  man  met  another,  and  asked  him,  '  Well,  what 
do  you  think  of  all  this  ?  '  —  '  What  do  I  think  ?  I  hardly  dare 
be  silent ! ' " 

"  Somebody,  struck  with  the  change  that  the  two  first  years 
of  the  Revolution  had  wrought  in  the  political  opinions  of 
Alfieri,  asked  him  to  explain  it.  '  Ah  ! '  said  he,  '  I  knew  the 
great ;  but  I  did  not  know  the  little  ! ' ': 

The  last  traces  of  the  eighteenth  century,  under  its 
spirituelle  and  literary  aspect,  linger  in  the  "  Souvenirs " 
of  Mme.  Necker.  Mme.  Swetchine  borrows  largely  from 
them :  — 

"  M.  Borda  was  a  distinguished  seaman  and  traveller,  and 
a  great  favorite  in  Mme.  Necker's  circle.  The  story  was  told 
in  his  presence,  that  Streunse'e,  at  his  examination,  had  made 
some  admissions  which  compromised  the  Queen  of  Denmark. 
M.  Borda  replied  instantly,  '  A  Frenchman  would  have  told 
everybody  of  that,  but  he  would  have  admitted  it  to  nobody.' " 

"  M.  Dubucq,  who  has  left  a  brilliant  record  of  his  adminis- 
tration in  our  colonies,  once  said,  '  The  gibbet  is  a  species  of 
flattery  to  the  human  race.  Three  or  four  persons  are  hung, 
from  time  to  time,  for  the  sake  of  making  the  rest  believe  that 
they  are  virtuous.' " 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  39 

' '  Those  persons  who  never  speak  till  they  can  make  a  hit 
are  insufferable.  They  oblige  you  to  till  up  the  embroidery 
of  which  they  will  only  do  the  flowers." 

"  The  man  who  is  most  inferior  to  us  as  a  whole  is  our 
superior  in  some  one  particular.  In  conversing  with  him, 
therefore,  we  must  choose  those  subjects  on  which  he  has  the 
advantage,  that  we  may  derive  some  benefit  from  our  inter- 
course with  him." 

"  To  receive  a  visit  is  always  to  run  a  risk.  We  are  not 
obliged  to  please  the  persons  whom  we  do  see ;  but,  when 
they  are  our  guests,  they  must  be  treated  with  favor,  considera- 
tion, and  patience." 

"  We  must  never  assume  an  authoritative  air  in  society, 
nor  exhibit  any  change  of  countenance  in  disputing  with  those 
who  are  not  of  our  mind.  Conversation  is  an  arena  where  a 
race  is  to  be  won,  and  that  with  the  swiftness  of  Atalanta ;  but 
it  is  allowable  to  arrest  our  adversary  only  with  apples  of  gold. 
Self-love  will  forgive  weighty  and  even  severe  objections  in 
a  t6te-a-t6te ;  but  it  never  overlooks  a  too  serious  lace  or  ex- 
pressions of  disapproval  in  public." 

"  M.  Thomas  said  that  an  expressionless  face  is  born  deaf 
and  dumb." 

"'They  blame  you;'  'They  accuse  you;1  'They  say  of 
you'  —  last,  but  not  least,  'They  will  say1 — Who,  then,  is  this 
King  They,  whose  authority  is  thus  proclaimed  ?  It  is  a  king 
without  state,  splendor,  or  visible  throne  ;  yet  all  obey  his  voice, 
and  tremble  before  him.  A  remarkable  king  in  this  respect, 
that  he  is  sovereign  in  small  matters  as  well  as  in  great." 

This  portrait  of  King  They  is  from  Mme.  Necker's 
own  hand.  She  had  a  perfect  right  to  speak  of  him ;  for 
she  had  known  him  well. 

Vers  de  Societe  were  so  fashionable  at  that  epoch,  that 
of  course  we  find  some  traces  of  them  in  Mme.  Swet- 
chine's  volumes.  Very  few  deserve  to  survive  the  occasion 
which  called  them  forth.  Perhaps,  however,  we  ought 
to  except  the  following  apologue  of  Count  Elzear  de 
Sabran,  whose  charming  old  age  is  fresh  in  the  memory 
of  many,  and  who,  in  his  turn,  recalled  the  grace  and  re- 
finement of  the  Chevalier  de  Boufflers,  the  second  husband 
of  his  mother,  Countess  de  Sabran  :  — 


40  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


BONHETO  ET  MALHECR. 

Bonheur  et  Malheur  sont  deux  fibres, 

Qui  furent  toujours  ennemis. 
Fortune  et  Ilasard  sont  leurs  peres, 

Que  1'on  vit  toujours  fort  amis. 
Malheur,  a  la  mine  pauvrette, 

Ne  fut  jamais  trop  bien  traite"; 
Bonheur,  d'une  beaute1  parfaite, 

Fut  de  chacun  1'enfant  gate\ 

Bonheur  veut  un  parti  sortable, 

Kiche  dot,  et  bonne  maison ; 
Malheur  se  sentait  moins  aiiuable, 

II  eut  moins  de  pretention. 
Bonheur,  e'pousant  1'Inconstance, 

Se  trouva  bientot  malheureux; 
Malheur  e"pousa  1'E.spe'rance, 

Et  finit  par  se  croire  heureux. 

The  second  volume  of  Mme.  Swetchine's  selections  is 
dated  on  the  12th  of  December,  1803.  Her  reading,  for 
the  most  part,  embraces  a  more  connected  and  lofty  order 
of  ideas.  Duclos  is  occasionally  found  side  by  side  with 
Pascal ;  but  Pascal  and  Massillon  have  the  preference. 

Some  one  expressed  surprise  that  she  should  read  so 
carefully  Mercier's  "  Tableau  de  Paris,"  and  would  have 
demonstrated  to  her  the  weakness  of  the  work.  Mme. 
Swetchine  interrupted  him  with  the  remark :  "  Since  I 
am  to  read  every  thing,  what  matters  it  where  I  begin  ?  " 

Religious  questions,  Mme.  Swetchine  already  investi- 
gated thoroughly:  — 

"  Other  religions,  as  the  pa^an,  are  more  popular  than  the 
Christian :  they  consist  wholly  in  externals,  but  they  are  not 
for  people  of  ability.  A  purely  intellectual  religion  would 
answer  for  the  gifted,  but  it  would  be  useless  to  the  mass  of 
men.  Christianity  alone  is  adapted  to  all."  —  Pascal. 

After  a  passage  from  Father  Bridaine,  we  read :  — 

"  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  was  very  drowsy  on  the  day  of  his 
death ;  and,  one  of  his  friends  having  expressed  some  anxiety 
about  his  constant  slumber,  he  replied,  '  It  is  the  brother 
coming  before  the  sister.'" 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  41 

La  Harpe  re-appears,  —  but  La  Harpe  outraged  by  the 
excesses  of  the  age  whose  enthusiasm  he  had  shared :  — 

"  Senseless  destroyers  !  you  shouted  '  Victory,'  and  where 
is  your  victory  now  ?  You  were  in  a  chronic  rage  at  the 
wealth  with  which  our  temples  abounded.  They  are  rich  no 
longer,  but  they  are  sacred  still.  They  are  stripped,  but  they 
are  frequented.  Pomp  has  vanished,  but  worship  remains. 
They  are  no  longer  crowded  with  marbles  and  precious  tapes- 
tries ;  but  men  bow  there,  and  weep  over  the  ruin.  Sacrifice 
is  poorly  apparelled  ;  but  adoration  is  deep,  and  piety  pure." 

"  Common  sense  enjoins  on  the  irreligious,  instead  of  think- 
ing to  interrogate  God,  to  think  how  they  will  one  day  answer 
him." 

"Our  self-love  can  be  resigned  to  the  sacrifice  of  every 
thing  but  itself." 

Then  follow  several  pages  consecrated  to  the  prepara- 
tion for,  and  acceptance  of,  death :  — 

"A  friendship  will  be  young  after  the  lapse  of  a  century. 
A  passion  is  old  at  the  end  of  three  months."  —  Vigee. 

"  Plato  once  gave  a  sumptuous  feast.  Diogenes,  when  he 
entered  the  house,  had  to  walk  over  a  superb  carpet.  '  I  am 
treading  under  foot  the  pride  of  Plato,'  said  he.  '  Yes,'  re- 
plied Plato,  'with  the  pride  of  Diogenes.'" 

Over  a  fragment  from  "  Zimmermann  on  Solitude,"  Mme. 
Swetchine  has  written,  in  pencil,  "  What  a  blunder  in  the 
translator  to  have  put  fierte  for  orgueil!" 

The  letters  of  Count  de  Valmont ;  Barruel's  "  Histo- 
ire  de  Jacobin  isme  ; "  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  Bourdaloue, 
M.  Laya,  the  Marquise  de  Lambert ;  some  poems  of 
Ducis,  and  the  "Jour  des  Morts"  of  Lemiere,  —  occupy  the 
third  volume,  in  which  Bossuet  appears  for  the  first  time. 
Italian  sonnets  abound.  German  and  Russian  have  also 
a  place.  The  third  volume  closes  with  a  long  analysis  of 
the  principles  of  the  Lycurgean  legislation. 

The  fourth  volume  bears  the  date  of  1806.  It  is  filled 
with  the  romances  of  Mme.  Cottin,  the  sermons  of  the 
Abbe  Poule,  and  English  and  Italian  poems. 


42  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

The  fifth  volume  opens  with  long  extracts  from  Mme. 
de  StaeTs  "Delphine."  And  here,  for  the  first  time, 
Mme.  Swetchine  interrupts  her  citations,  and  speaks  some- 
what at  length  in  her  proper  person :  — 

"  If  these  extracts  were  destined  for  any  other  eye  than 
mine,  I  should  hesitate  about  copying  any  portion  of  this  letter, 
in  which  'Delphine'  unfolds  opinions  so  unlike  my  own.  Thej 
might  well  scandalize  the  least  devout,  while  those  who  are 
most  indulgent  to  me  would  find  them  shockingly  incongruous, 
and  no  one  would  appreciate  my  motive.  But  since  I  am 
collecting  these  scattered  materials  for  my  sole  behoof,  and 
consequently  have  no  malicious  interpretations  to  dread,  I 
have  thought  it  right  to  allow  myself  to  insert  a  fragment 
which  seems  to  me  full  of  sensibility,  warmth,  and  life ;  con- 
tent to  add,  by  way  of  forestalling  any  false  judgment  which 
the  oblivion  of  the  past  might  lead  me  to  pronounce  upon  my- 
self at  the  advanced  age  when  I  shall  review  this  collection, 
that,  since  my  eyes  first  opened  to  the  light  of  truth,  my  con- 
victions on  this  important  point  have  never  wavered." 

And  beneath  these  lines,  which  are  written  with  ink, 
we  find  in  pencil :  — 

"To-day,  on  the  5th  of  May,  1831,  at  the  age  of  fifty-one 
years  and  five  months,  I  bear  witness,  with  a  smile  at  my  old 
scruples,  that,  in  the  twenty-eight  years  which  have  elapsed 
since  then,  my  faith  has  been  growing  ever  stronger  and 
clearer ;  that  the  slightest  doubt  has  never  arisen  within  me ; 
and  that,  firmly  fixed  on  the  great  basis  of  Christianity,  I  have 
never  wavered  except  to  become,  in  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  more  of  a  Christian  than  ever." 

After  the  fragment  from  "  Delphine,"  we  read :  — 

"  Before  God  can  deliver  us  from  ourselves,  we  must  unde- 
ceive ourselves."  —  Saint  Augustine. 

"  Perfection  easily  endures  the  imperfection  of  others.  God 
lets  remain,  in  the  most  advanced  souls,  certain  weaknesses 
disproportionate  to  their  high  estate,  as  they  leave  mounds 
of  earth  which  they  call  landmarks  (tkmoins)  in  a  piece  of 
ground  which  has  been  levelled,  to  show  how  deep  the  work 
of  man's  hands  has  gone.  So  God  leaves,  in  great  souls,  land- 
marks or  remnants  of  the  wretchedness  he  has  removed." 


LIFE    OP   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  43 

"  The  soul  has  no  secret  which  the  conduct  does  not  reveal." 
—  (/  think  this  is  from  the  Chinese.') 

"  The  Frenchman  is  that  naughty  child  whom  the  mother 
of  Du  Guesclin  characterized  as  the  one  who  is  always  beating 
the  others." 

"  If  I  have  made  out  a  case  for  science,  it  gives  me  the  right 
to  demand  silence  when  I  speak  of  religion."  —  Leibnitz. 

"When  any  one  has  offended  me,  I  try  to  raise  my  soul 
so  high  that  the  offence  cannot  reach  it." — Descartes. 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  be  angry  with  things  ;  for  our  wrath  can- 
not harm  them  in  the  least."  —  Marcus  Aurelius. 

"  The  celebrated  Morgagni  once  let  fall  his  scalpel  in  the 
midst  of  a  dissection,  and  exclaimed,  '  Oh,  if  I  could  only  love 
God  as  well  as  I  know  him  ! ' " 

"  My  poor,"  said  Boerhaave,  "  are  my  best  patients.  God 
pays  for  them." 


44  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

Accession  of  the  Emperor  Alexander.  —  Arrival  of  the  Count  de  Maistre 
at  St.  Petersburg.  —  Adoption  of  young  Nadine  Staeline.  —  Works  of 
charity,  and  correspondence  with  Alexander  Tourguenief.  —  Marriage 
of  the  Princess  Gargarin.  —  Earliest  letters  to  Mile.  Koxaudra 
Stourdza. 

ECCENTRIC  as  was  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Paul, 
he  left  behind  him  one  memorable  and  salutary  enact- 
ment,—  the  re-establishment  of  the  direct  and  legitimate 
order  of  succession  to  the  throne,  —  which  was  promulgated 
the  day  he  took  his  oath.  His  capricious  and  violent 
measures  were  speedily  forgotten,  and  the  advent  of  Alex- 
ander I.  was  hailed  with  enthusiasm. 

His  grandmother,  Catharine,  whose  partiality  had  been 
undisguised,  had  married  him,  when  he  was  barely  twenty 
years  old,  to  the  young  and  beautiful  Princess  Louise  of 
Baden,  who,  on  embracing  the  Greek  religion,  assumed  the 
name  of  Elizabeth. 

Imposing  in  stature  and  bearing,  with  a  winning  face, 
sweet  and  gentle  manners,  and  a  degree  of  polish  which 
sometimes  amounted  to  affectation,  generous  and  enthu- 
siastic, Alexander  possessed,  in  about  an  equal  degree, 
the  qualities  which  captivate  the  masses,  and  those  which 
attract  earnest  minds.  His  tutor,  Cesar  de  la  Harpe,  born 
in  the  canton  of  Vaud,  was  a  republican  by  persuasion,  as 
well  as  by  birth,  and  began  by  inspiring  Alexander  with 
an  ardent  desire  to  make  terms  with  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, whereof  he  himself  was  ever  the  open  partisan. 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  45 

One  of  Alexander's  first  acts,  therefore,  when  he  as- 
cended the  throne,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  was  to 
repair  to  Memel,  and  confer  with  William  III.,  King  of 
Prussia,  with  the  hope  of  interesting  him  in  some  plan 
for  a  definite  reconciliation  with  France.  At  Riga  the 
inhabitants  detached  the  horses  from  his  carriage,  and  drew 
him  through  the  streets ;  and  a  German  naval  captain 
burst  through  the  crowd,  shouting,  "  Let  my  eyes  behold 
the  Emperor  of  Peace ! " 

The  aged  Klopstock,  who  interpreted  the  sentiment  of 
Germany,  wrote  an  ode  in  honor  of  "  the  tutelary  saint 
of  humanity."  As  a  trifling  indication  of  the  intellectual 
direction  which  he  proposed  to  give  his  reign,  Alexan- 
der showed  himself  less  strenuous  than  his  father  about 
costumes  and  military  drill.  He  conversed  with  the  civil 
functionaries,  and  voluntarily  adopted  the  manners  of  a 
simple  private  gentleman.  On  great  review-days  only, 
which  were  rare  and  solemn  occasions,  he  appeared  in  a 
brilliant  uniform,  and  surrounded  by  a  numerous  cortege. 
It  used  to  be  said  of  him,  at  this  period,  "  He  is  the  court- 
ier who  least  frequents  the  court." 

"  Who  would  have  guessed  the  nature  of  our  disputes  ?  " 
writes  Napoleon,  in  the  "  Memorial  de  Sainte-Helene." 
"  He  used  to  maintain  that  hereditary  power  was  an  abuse 
in  government ;  and  I  have  had  to  employ  all  my  logic  and 
eloquence  to  convince  him,  that  in  this  same  hereditary 
power  lay  the  peace  and  happiness  of  a  people.  Perhaps 
he  was  mystifying  me,  after  all :  for  he  is  subtle,  treacher- 
ous, and  adroit.  He  is  a  man  of  ability." 

Alexander  shared  the  cares  of  empire  with  certain 
young  persons  of  his  own  age,  whom  the  malecontents  of 
the  new  regime  stigmatized  as  the  coterie  of  "  young  men 
of  mind."  The  individuals  who  incurred  this  odd  re- 


46  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

proach  were  Count  Strogonof,  whose  name  has  already 
been  mentioned  in  connection  with  his  early  preference 
for  Sophia  Soymonof;  Prince  Kotchoubei ;  Prince  Adam 
Czartoryski,  a  noble  and  faithful  representative  of  Poland  ; 
and  M.  Novossiltzof.  The  national  writer,  Karamzin,  was 
also  intimate  with  the  Emperor  Alexander ;  but  it  was 
in  the  character  of  an  historiographer.  The  old  annals 
of  Russia,  her  hopes,  and  her  future,  formed  the  subject  of 
their  disinterested  and  high-minded  intercourse.  Finally, 
Speranski,  the  son  of  a  priest  in  the  Greek  Church,  and 
the  first  example  of  an  illustrious  career  in  that  class,  a 
learned  lawyer,  and  a  man  of  strong  and  systematic  mind 
and  fascinating  conversational  gifts,  exercised  a  daily  in- 
creasing influence  over  the  mind  of  Alexander  in  favor 
of  European  ideas  and  institutions.  Such  a  change  of 
regime  appeared  to  the  inhabitants  of  St.  Petersburg  like 
a  renewal  of  the  atmosphere,  we  might  almost  say  a 
revolution  in  climate.  No  one  enjoyed  it  more  keenly 
than  Mme.  Swetchine.  From  the  time  of  Alexander's 
accession,  she  was  at  ease,  and  breathed  freely,  at  least 
in  the  sphere  of  conversation  and  intimate  intercourse; 
yet  neither  General  Swetchine  nor  herself  endeavored  to 
regain  place  at  court.  The  general's  was  naturally  an 
indifferent  character ;  and  he  was,  as  one  could  see  at  a 
glance,  totally  destitute  of  ambition.  Mme.  Swetchine 
was  full  of  ardor  and  power ;  but  her  energy  was  ex- 
pended on  moral  activities,  and  she  made  no  concessions 
to  the  pomps  or  the  slavery  of  human  grandeur.  Her 
sole  tie  to  the  imperial  court  was  a  grateful  devotion  to 
the  Empress  Mary.  But  the  widow  of  Paul  I.  had  made 
haste  to  escape  the  theatre  of  politics,  which  had  proved 
so  tragic  a  one  for  her.  At  Pawlovvski  she  created  for 
herself  an  existence  apart.  A  library  rich  in  rare  edi- 


LIFE    OF   BfADAME    8WETCIIIXK.  47 

tions  and  new  publications  ;  mahogany  tables  loaded  with 
drawings  and  medals ;  collections  of  cameos  and  precious 
stones,  engraved  by  her  own  hands,  —  indicated  at  a  glance 
the  serious  nature  of  her  employments.  Every  year  the 
shut  herself  up  in  the  vicinity  of  her  husband's  tomb,  to 
offer  up  prayers  to  God  for  him,  and  attest  before  men 
her  religious  remembrance.  She  kept  with  her,  in  the 
character  of  a  friend,  the  Countess  Lieven,  who  had  had 
charge  of  the  early  instruction  of  her  children.  She  also 
took  pleasure  in  superintending  the  various  benevolent 
institutions  of  St.  Petersburg.  The  Baroness  d'Adelberg, 
lady-superior  of  a  convent  similar  to  the  celebrated  foun- 
dation of  Mme.  Maintenon  for  young  people  of  indigent 
families,  having  fallen  ill  on  one  occasion,  the  empress  took 
her  place,  and  fulfilled  her  duties  until  her  recovery. 

To  these  influences,  which  wrought  so  happily  on  Mme. 
Swetchine,  was  finally  added  another,  —  the  most  powerful 
and  decisive  of  them  all,  —  the  arrival  of  Count  de  Maistre. 

M.  de  Maistre  was  a  man  whose  practice  never  con- 
tradicted his  theory.  His  virtue  had  all  the  simplicity, 
purity,  and  elevation  of  his  ideas.  The  ambassador  of  an 
unfortunate  king,  he  thought  only  of  concealing,  by  dint 
of  personal  privations  and  intrepid  pride,  the  poverty 
which  he  shared  with  his  master.  The  plenipotentiary's 
repast  often  consisted  only  of  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  glass 
of  water ;  but,  even  at  this  price,  the  carriage  and  foot- 
man, indispensable  to  the  dignity  of  his  mission,  were 
always  retained.  The  generous  zeal  of  this  "  Caleb  "  of 
diplomacy  could  not  escape  Russian  perspicacity ;  but, 
while  the  Emperor  Alexander  and  his  ministers  were 
lavish  of  their  attentions,  he  was  exposed,  at  times,  to 
offensive  attacks  from  the  second-rate  men  who  sur- 
rounded the  king.  Mediocrity,  totally  unable  to  appiv- 


48  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWKTCHINE. 

ciate  an  elevated  range  of  view  and  purpose,  unable  even 
to  comprehend  the  language  in  which  you  answer  it,  lends 
a  ready  ear  to  shabby  intrigues  and  base  suspicions.  But 
M.  de  Maistre  was  not  of  the  number  of  those  to  whom 
may  be  applied  the  words  of  Scripture,  "  Prophesy  not 
unto  us  right  things :  speak  unto  us  smooth  things ; 
prophesy  deceits."  Nothing  could  shake  his  devotion  or 
conquer  his  sincerity.  With  him  frankness  was  the  truest 
measure  of  love.  Addressing  himself,  alternately,  aloud 
to  the  people  and  in  whispers  to  the  king,  he  said  to  each, 
not  what  he  presumed  might  be  agreeable,  but  what  he 
judged  would  be  useful.  Both  were  for  a  long  time  un- 
grateful. Justice  is  a  plant  of  slow  growth,  but  it  grows ; 
and  God,  who,  unlike  men,  despises  nothing,  has  caused 
even  the  malice  of  his  enemies  to  redound  to  the  glory  of 
Count  de  Maistre.1 

The  illustrious  author  of  the  "  Soirees  de  St.  Peters- 
burg "  was  accredited  at  the  court  of  Russia  in  the  spring 
of  1803.  He  was  then  forty-nine  years  old.  His  "  Con- 
siderations sur  la  Revolution  Franchise "  had  already 
brought  him  into  public  notice ;  already  his  eagle  eye  had 
pierced  below  the  surface ;  already  he  had  written,  "  Let 

1  See  the  work  recently  published  by  M.  Albert  Blanc,  under  the  title 
of  ''  Memoires  I'olitiques  et  Correspondence  Diplomatique  de  J.  de 
Maistre."  This  publication,  evidently  dictated  by  a  spirit  hostile  to 
Catholicism,  and  consequently  to  Count  de  Maistre,  is,  in  the  end,  ad- 
vantageous to  both.  If,  in  the  abandwn  and  presumed  secrecy  of  a  private 
correspondence,  the  language  sometimes  transgresses  the  bounds  of 
propriety,  the  sentiment  is  always  so  thoroughly  pious  and  so  profoundly 
intelligent,  that,  after  the  perusal,  we  honor  M.  de  Maistre  more  than 
ever,  and  feel  an  increased  respect  for  ourselves  in  that  we  share  with 
him  such  large  and  strong  convictions.  I  trust  that  the  comparison  with 
Caleb  will  not  seem  disrespectful.  Aside  from  his  menial  position,  the 
aged  servitor  of  the  Kavenswooils  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  touching 
and  poetic  of  Walter  Scott's  creations. 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  49 

us  have  the  courage  to  avow  it:  we  long  failed  to  com- 
prehend the  Revolution,  of  which  we  are  a  standing  proof. 
We  took  it  for  an  event,  but  we  were  mistaken :  it  was  an 
epoch." l 

M.  de  Maistre  and  Mme.  Swetchine,  thus  providentially 
brought  together,  were  not  long  in  divining,  spite  of  the 
disparity  in  their  ages  and  antecedents,  the  congeniality 
of  their  souls.  Their  connection  began  by  a  mutual  attrac- 
tion ;  but  the  woman's  mind  was  in  no  respect  subjugated. 
Slow  to  embrace  the  observances  of  a  positive  religion, 
Mme.  Swetchine,  at  that  period,  professed  Russian  Ortho- 
doxy. Nevertheless,  her  mind,  familiar  with  the  great 
intellects  of  all  lands  and  ages,  watched  modern  contro- 
versies keenly ;  and  her  researches  were  then  tending  in 
the  direction  of  German  philosophy.  With  Pascal,  Des- 
cartes, and  Leibnitz,  it  had  been  her  desire  to  compare 
Kant,  Fichte,  and  Hegel.  A  young  German  professor, 
Raupach,  who  had  come  to  Russia  for  a  private  education, 
had  established  himself  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  was  develop- 
ing, in  his  brilliant  conversation,  the  philosophical  prin- 
ciples and  the  wealth  of  imagination  which  were  sub- 
sequently to  render  his  name  famous  in  Germany.  Of 
him  Mme.  Swetchine  saw  much.  Moreover,  the  innate 
independence  of  her  nature  revolted  against  what  she 
then  called  the  absolute  dogmatism  of  Count  de  Maistre ; 
and  when,  at  last,  she  gave  her  friend  the  unspeakable  joy 
of  her  conversion,  it  was  by  other  methods  than  those 
which  he  had  indicated  that  she  came  to  touch  the  solid 
earth,  and  plant  her  foot  upon  truth. 

However  prominent  the  place  that  study  and  intel- 
lectual interests  occupied  in  the  daily  life  of  Mme.  Swet- 


1  Funeral  Oration  of  Eugene  de  Costa. 
4 


50  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

chine,  they  never  sufficed  her.  The  tender  cares  lavished 
on  her  young  sister  stimulated  without  exhausting  her 
maternal  instinct;  and  she  soon  resolved  to  undertake  a 
new  charge.  General  Swetchine  had  promised  to  act 
a  father's  part  to  a  child  who  bore  the  name  of  Nadine 
Staeline.  Mme.  Swetchine,  so  far  from  being  disturbed 
by  this  project,  associated  herself  with  it.  She  welcomed 
little  Nadine,  who  knew  no  other  home  and  no  other  care 
than  that  of  this  second  mother. 

At  the  same  time,  her  inexhaustible  need  of  helping 
and  loving  sustained  itself  by  an  active,  constant,  daily 
supervision  of  the  poor.  The  Empress  Elizabeth  joined 
the  Empress  Mary  in  works  of  benevolence ;  and  educa- 
tional and  charitable  institutions  multiplied  under  their 
patronage.  Mme.  Swetchine  contributed  her  share  to  this 
movement,  and  was  soon  constrained  to  rise  from  the  rank 
of  a  simple  co-adjutor  to  that  of  an  authoritative  directress. 
Doubtless  she  was  unconsciously  rendering  herself  worthy 
of  the  works  of  grace  which  were  afterwards  to  take  effect 
in  her:  her  character  was  developing,  strengthening,  and 
gaining  in  solidity,  where  before  she  had  been  only  bril- 
liant. At  the  age  of  twenty-five,  she  was  invaluable  to  all 
her  friends,  —  and  her  friends  were  of  all  ages,  —  enthu- 
siastic in  study,  modest  in  thought,  gay  and  demonstrative 
in  intimate  intercourse,  grave  and  collected  in  her  hours 
of  meditation.  Her  natural  level  was  high ;  but  she  was 
sincerely  condescending  to  shyness  and  humility,  and  ten- 
derly affectionate  with  the  poor,  the  afflicted,  and  the 
penitent.  Her  word  was  weighty,  her  advice  sought; 
and  the  best  possible  evidence  of  the  beautiful  unity  of 
all  the  phases  of  hej  existence  may  be  found  in  a  few  care- 
less, unimportant,  undated  notes  of  hers,  addressed  to  one 
of  her  fellow-laborers  in  good  works.  What  description 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  51 

could  equal,  in  fidelity  of  resemblance,  these  brief  lines, 
written  so  hurriedly  that  they  are  scarcely  legible,  and  in 
which  she  unconsciously  portrays  herself  struggling  with 
ill-health,  and  reconciling,  without  confusion  or  mutual 
encroachment,  the  laborious  duties  of  her  private  life  with 
the  cares  of  her  life  of  charity,  —  such,  in  a  word,  as  we 
ourselves  knew  her  in  the  exquisite  perfection  of  her 
maturity  and  her  old  age ! 

This  correspondence,  small  fragments  of  which  are 
here  introduced,  is  addressed  to  Alexander  Tourguenief, 
the  eldest  of  three  brothers,  men  of  great  merit,  and  united 
by  the  most  touching  affection.  Their  father,  a  provincial 
governor,  was  connected  with  the  famous  Prince  Repnin, 
the  leader  of  the  sect  of  the  Martinists  in  Moscow,  and 
had  inspired  his  sons  with  some  spiritualistic  tendencies, 
which  always  continued  to  animate  them.1  Alexander 
Tourguenief,  at  the  time  when  his  relations  with  Mme. 
Swetchine  commenced,  was  filling  an  important  place  in 
the  ministry  of  public  instruction  and  worship  under 
Prince  Galitzin.  There  are  in  existence  at  least  three  hun- 
dred billets  of  a  similar  nature  to  those  that  follow ;  and 
they  would  of  themselves  suffice  to  give  one  a  fair  idea 
of  the  writer's  activity  of  mind  and  heart :  — 

Please,  my  dear  Tourguenief,  excuse  me  to  our  ladies. 
I  cannot  go  to  the  meeting  this  morning ;  and  it  is  the  less 
inconvenient  for  me  to  remain  away,  as  I  have  no  petition  to 
present.  Do  me  the  favor  of  obtaining  the  matron's  memo- 
randa,—  that  is  to  say,  the  names  and  lodgings  of  those  to 
whom  board  is  furnished.  We  have,  in  all,  thirty  roubles  a 
month.  This  month  the  poor  people  have  not  made  applica- 
tion, and  I  do  not  know  how  to  dispose  of  it.  If  there  happens 
to  be  no  meeting,  please  let  me  know. 

Pardon  me  for  giving  you  so  much  trouble.  It  is  written 
that  I  shall  never  cease  to  do  so ;  and  this  necessity  I  shall 

1  Private  History  of  Russia,  by  Schnitzler,  vol.  ii.  p.  62. 


52  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

not  call  fatality,  like  the  Turks,  but  predestination,  like  a  true 
Jansenist. 

The  Countess  .  .  .  has  received  no  further  communication 
from  a  certain  individual.  Could  you  not,  with  your  accustomed 
kindness,  hasten  the  progress  of  her  affair  ?  She  is  in  a  state  of 
actual  agony.  Patience  does  wear  out,  like  every  thing  else  ;  and 
we,  poor  mortals,  are  not  rich  in  any  thing.  Good-morning. 


Wednesday. 

The  bearer  of  this  is  an  honest  man,  named  Zilbrecht.  He 
is  extremely  poor,  and  as  such  has  received  some  slight  assist- 
ance from  the  philanthropic  committee.  He  would  like  a  situ- 
ation ;  but,  as  he  does  not  know  German,  I  fancy  it  will  be  quite 
difficult  for  him  to  obtain  one  :  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  you 
were  the  only  person  who  could  indicate  to  him  the  means  of 
success,  —  if  success  be  possible. 

You  must  remember  the  merchant  Hiedapol.  His  wife 
remained  here  ;  and  she  finds  herself  very  much  annoyed  by  the 
police,  who  will  not  renew  her  permission  to  reside  in  St. 
Petersburg,  and  insist  on  her  departure :  would  you  not  be  so 
kind  as  to  explain  to  M.  Gorgoli,  that  these  people  are  not 
vagrants  ?  Her  husband  is  well  known  to  the  .Empress  Eliza- 
beth, her  children  are  under  her  protection,  and  the  woman 
herself  under  the  care  of  a  physician  in  Her  Majesty's  pay. 
A  thousand  pardons  for  the  trouble  I  am  always  giving  you ; 
but  the  truth  is,  when  there  is  a  good  turn  to  be  done,  you  are 
the  first  person  that  occurs  to  one's  mind. 


Thursday  evening. 

It  is  very  gratifying  that  you  would  fain  believe  me  omni- 
present, like  the  superior  intelligences ;  and  I  myself  rega-t 
that  I  have  never  yet  succeeded  in  being  in  more  than  O'ie 
place  at  a  time.  I  never  felt  the  inconvenience  of  this  state  of 
things  so  much  as  to-day,  when  you  paid  me  a  visit,  positive'v 
knowing  that  I  was  somewhere  else.  Depend  upon  it,  if  divi- 
nation answered  me  instead  of  knowledge,  this  should  never 
have  happened. 

However,  I  shall  not  confine  myself  to  bantering  a  man 
as  amiable  and  obliging  as  yourself.  I  feel  bound  also  to  tor- 
ment him.  Consequently,  I  beg  that  you  will  come  and  see  me 
to-morrow  morning,  whenever  you  can  spare  me  an  hour. 

I  very  much  want  a  Bible  witli  parallel  columns  in  ancient 
and  modern  Greek ;  and  you  will  confer  a  great  pleasure  by 
procuring  one  at  your  earliest  convenience.  What  you  tell  me 


V 

LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  53 

of  M.  .  .  .  confirms  my  instinctive  suspicions.  I  must  confess 
that  I  have  no  taste  for  hazardous  proceedings ;  and  I  firmly 
believe,  that,  when  a  thing  is  useless,  it  is  no  longer  matter  of 
indifference,  but  positively  harmful.  I  am  much  more  mortified 
at  the  idea  of  foregoing  five  hundred  roubles  from  the  govern- 
ment of  Toula ;  but,  where  we  are  not  satisfied,  we  must  submit. 
Good-morning,  my  dear  confidant  in  all  my  official  anxieties. 


Monday. 

You  cannot  imagine  how  earnestly  they  are  asking  at 
Moscow  for  Polish  and  Italian  Bibles.  Have  you  not  some 
which  contain  versions  in  these  two  languages  in  parallel 
columns?  I  have  no  alternative  in  this  matter  but  to  apply 
to  the  distributor,  whose  complaisance  is  worthy  of  the  most 
high-flown  of  Oriental  encomiums. 

Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  borrow  for  me  two  requests 
which  I  presented  at  the  last  meeting?  They  were  from  two 
peasants  to  whom  we  allowed  five  hundred  roubles ;  but,  as 
they  have  not  yet  come  for  the  money,  I  want  to  know  where 
they  lodge.  The  place  is  marked  on  the  requests,  which  I  will 
immediately  return.  I  hope  to  see  you  this  evening. 


Friday. 

Wilt  you  be  so  kind,  my  dear  Tourguenief,  as  to  ask 
M.  Sayger  to  send  me  Viller's  book  on  the  Influence  of  the 
Reformation  ?  I  would  like  it  this  minute :  but,  as  soon  as  I 
have  obtained  the  information  I  want,  I  will  return  it ;  and  I  beg 
that  he  will  keep  it  as  long  as  he  desires. 

Do  not  forget,  either,  to  give  me  Philaretus' '  book,  and  to 
send  me  the  Princess  Alexis'.*  May  I  keep  Goethe  ?  and  will 

1  Archbishop  of  Moscow.     It  is  customary  to  designate  simply  by 
their  baptismal  name  the  dignitaries  of  the  Russian  Church. 

2  Princess  Alexis  Galitzin,  we  Countess  Protasof.     She  had  married 
Prince  Alexis  Galitzin,  grandson  of  the  field-marshal  to  whom  Russia 
owes  the  victory  of  Pultowa.     She  became  a  widow  in  1600,  and  was 
one  of  the  first  Russians  who  embraced  Catholicism.     Her  sisters,  Coun- 
tess Rastopchine  and  Protasof,  and  the  Princess  Vasiltchikof,  soon  fol- 
lowed her  example.    She  ha>l,  moreover,  the  happiness  of  winning  to  the 
true  faith  her  eldest  son,  Prince  Peter;  and  her  daughter,  who  died  in 
America,  a  nun  of  the  Sacred  Heart.     The  Princess  Galitzin  was  all  the 
nearer  to  Mine.  Swetchine  in  that  she  was  bound  by  so  many  ties  to 


54  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

you  not  add  the  "  Kleine  Prosaische  Schriften  "  of  Schiller,  one 
volume  of  which  I  already  have  ?  Pray  refuse,  if  you  need 
them  ever  so  little.  Permit  me  also  to  borrow  your  Miiller. 
I  want  to  take  a  few  notes  from  it ;  but  I  will  not  keep  it  long. 


Thursday. 

You  relieve  me  of  embarrassment,  my  dear  friend,  even 
•when  you  cannot  come  to  my  assistance.  Could  you  not  obtain 
a  courier  for  Moscow?  I  have  a  multitude  of  packages  to 
send,  and  I  cannot  avail  myself  of  to-day's  messenger.  I  have 
barely  come  back  to  life ;  and  the  sufferings  of  yesterday  have 
left  me  in  an  indescribable  state.  I  would  like  to  be  soothed 
to  sleep  by  Arabian  tales.  It  is  the  literature  of  a  people  still 
in  its  infancy,  and  I  assure  you  that  I  have  returned  to  mine. 
I  have  just  learned  that  the  invitation  is  for  six  o'clock.  Nothing 
could  be  more  inopportune.  So  Ouvarof '  wants  every  thing 
of  a  piece,  and  no  European  element  in  the  meeting.  I  shall 
assuredly  attack  him  on  this  point. 


Friday. 

You  were  here  yesterday,  my  dear  and  good  Tourguenief ; 
but  I  had  not  forgotten,  before  they  told  me,  that  it  was  an 
enormous  while  since  I  had  seen  you.  I  shall  be  invisible  another 
week,  but  not  to  you,  whom  I  naturally  associate,  not  with  a 
system  of  privation,  but  with  all  that  is  needful  to  repose  of 
heart  and  mind. 


Sunday  morning. 

There  was  a  calm  and  serious  tone  about  your  yesterday's 
letter,  which  touched  me  peculiarly.  It  was  like  an  impulse  to 
prayer  in  one  who  habitually  consults  his  reason.  May  God 


Count  de  Maistre ;  and  the  two  ladies  corresponded  constantly  till  the  time 
of  the  Princess's  death,  which  took  place  at  St.  Petersburg,  on  the  28th  of 
October,  1842.  But,  though  strict  iu  the  observances  of  the  Catholic  faith, 
she  maintained  in  society  and  the  court  the  rank  which  her  birth,  her 
intellect,  and  her  virtues  awarded  her.  Like  M.  de  Maistre,  she  liked  to 
preserve  her  impressions  in  writing,  and  has  left  several  manuscript  vol- 
umes, whose  publication  may  one  day  furnish  fresh  proof  of  the  fact,  that 
religious  sentiments,  so  far  from  extinguishing  patriotism,  purify  and 
strengthen  it. 

1  Head-clerk  of  the  Minister  of  Public  Instruction,  and  subsequently 
Prince  Galitzin's  successor. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  55 

preserve  you,  dear  friend !  There  is  the  material  for  ten  good 
men  in  your  head  and  heart ;  and  your  first  idea  and  dearest 
desire  must  needs  be  to  do  the  work  of  those  ten  men  in 


Tuesday. 

I  was  sure  that  you  would  be  affected  by  Countess  N.'s 
letter.  I  think  it  needs  but  a  single  revelation  of  character  to 
assure  us  of  an  individual's  capabilities.  Tell  M.  Muralt,  that 
nothing  could  suit  me  better  than  the  hours  he  can  give  me. 
Charge  him  not  to  put  it  off  later  than  Thursday.  I  should 
have  wanted  him  to-day,  were  I  not,  for  the  greatest  wonder 
in  the  world,  going  to  the  theatre.  It  seems  like  going  back 
to  my  childhood,  for  I  am  to  be  carried ;  and  that,  I  think,  will 
amuse  me. 


Saturday. 

I  am  tired  of  seeing  you  with  so  many  people  about. 
Please  come  to-morrow  morning,  at  whatever  hour  suits  you. 
My  doors  will  be  closed  to  everybody  else.  Till  to-morrow, 
then,  dear  friend. 


Saturday. 

Here  is  your  paper,  my  friend.  Believe  me,  in  religion  as  in 
politics,  it  is  a  bad  plan  to  wish  to  remain  neutral,  and  belong 
to  no  party.  In  a  purely  intellectual  sphere,  this  may  answer; 
but,  when  thought  is  to  be  wrought  into  action,  we  ought  to 
know  exactly  where  to  classify  it.  Try  to  be  at  M.  Karamzin's 
early.  I  dine  with  the  Princess  Alexis  ;  and  immediately  after- 
wards, —  that  is,  about  half-past  six,  —  I  shall  go  to  Mme. 
Mouraviefs,  and  thence  to  M.  Karamzin's. 


Sunday. 

Here,  my  dear  friend,  are  all  the  books  I  have  had  from  you ; 
viz.,  four  volumes  of  Herder,  two  of  Klopstock,  and  three 
of  Mu'ller.  You  must  allow  me  to  keep  Butterwerk,  —  the 
volume  on  ./Esthetics.  I  have  removed  the  marginal  notes  from 
the  others ;  but,  in  this  case,  it  would  oblige  me  to  recommence 
a  preparatory  labor.  Graef  has  promised  to  get  it  for  me  in  a 
few  days. 


Monday  morning. 

MY  DEAR  TOURGUENIEP, — Fischer  speaks,  in  one  of  his 
letters,  of  a  man  named  Hausen,  a  German  and  Moravian, 


56  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

who  is  settled  in  Astracan,  whence  he  has  made  several  journeys 
into  Persia.  Engaged  at  first,  it  may  be,  in  mercantile  pur- 
suits, he  conceived  a  passion  for  botany  on  his  travels,  and  has 
collected  specimens  of  all  the  most  interesting  plants  and  grains 
which  he  could  find.  At  present,  he  is  extremely  anxious  to 
resume  his  travels,  with  the  same  end  in  view.  Several  indi- 
viduals—  among  others,  Count  Alexis  Razoumoiski  —  have  pro- 
vided him  with  the  pecuniary  means ;  and  all  he  now  needs  is 
such  facilities  as  might  be  derived  from  the  recommendations 
he  would  like  to  take  with  him.  My  husband  has  written  to 
the  Governor  of  Astracan,  whom  we  know  ;  and  I,  too,  have  just 
despatched  a  letter  to  Mazorowitch.  But  Fischer  charged  me  to 
ask  Ouvarof  for  a  letter  for  Abas  Mirza ;  and  you  would  do  me 
a  great  favor  by  procuring  it  for  him.  I  trust  it  will  not  incon- 
venience him ;  and  countenance  of  this  sort,  in  some  shape  or 
other,  cannot  fail  to  be  useful  to  Hausen.  If  you  think  of  any 
other  way  in  which  we  might  serve  him,  let  me  know.  One  is 
always  glad  to  encourage  disinterested  scientific  effort ;  and  it 
is  a  still  greater  pleasure  to  contribute  to  the  happiness  of  a 
wise  man,  who  is  so  far  from  being  exacting  on  has  own  ac- 
count. 


Tuesday,  half-past  three. 

Do  not  come  this  evening,  my  dear  friend  ;  for  I  am  going  out. 
I  have  had  a  fancy  not  to  see  you  this  morning.  I  am  ready 
for  you  at  all  moments ;  and,  as  to  days,  I  need  not  say,  only 
to-day  is  perhaps  one  of  the  least  favorable.  I  imagine  that 
these  congratulations  were  only  invented  to  console  the  people 
who  were  never  congratulated  on  any  thing  else.  Come  to- 
morrow, dear  friend.  You  know  that  1  ask  and  obtain  this  per- 
petually. 

Making  no  distinction  of  nationality,  or  of  faith  in  needy 
cases,  exhausting  all  the  resources  of  her  own  gene- 
rosity before  calling  on  that  of  others,  Mme.  Swetchine 
was  always  discreet  and  prudent  in  her  appeals.  This 
character  of  universality  and  circumspection  about  her 
benevolence  is  especially  conspicuous  in  the  following  bil- 
lets:— 

Tuesday. 

The  poor  woman  who  will  hand  you  this,  my  dear  martyr,  has 
met  with  losses  whose  amount  is  stated  by  M.  Romanof,  gov- 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCIIIXK.  57 

crnor  of  Witepsk,  in  the  accompanying  paper.  She  came  so 
late  that  she  obtained  nothing  from  the  great  collection.  Prince 
Galitzin  and  Countess  Kotchoubei  are  interested  in  her  case, 
but  can  do  nothing.  Her  husband  is  sick ;  she  has  two  chil- 
dren ;  and  her  intention  is  to  return  to  Witepsk,  having  no 
means  of  subsistence  here.  We  voted  her  two  hundred 
roubles,  out  of  our  poverty,  at  the  last  meeting ;  but  this  is  in- 
sufficient for  the  transportation  of  herself  and  her  children, 
and  to  meet  the  indispensable  preparatory  expense.  If  you 
could  obtain  two  or  three  hundred  roubles  for  her,  it  would  be 
charity  well  applied,  as  I  have  taken  care  to  ascertain  from  M. 
Wassiltchikof  and  the  Countess  Kotchoubei.  I  have  made  a 
rough  estimate  of  the  requisite  sum,  rather  in  the  fear  that 
I  should  get  too  much  than  too  little.  What  I  know  of  the 
generosity  of  the  Countess  Strogonof  makes  me  fear  an  excess. 
I  am  sure  that  this  sum  will  take  her  to  her  province  ;  and  that 
any  thing  more  belongs,  of  right,  to  those  who  are  poorer  than 
she. 

The  woman  is  a  Jewess.  I  conceive  this  to  be  no  objection, 
and  that  true  charity  will  make  no  distinction  between  suffering 
Samaria  and  Jerusalem. 


Thursday. 

Count  de  Maistre  has  written,  requesting  me  to  mention  to 
you  a  poor  Polish  woman,  named  Zazeski,  in  whom  we  were 
disposed  to  feel  interested.  M.  de  Maistre  did  not  know  her 
particularly,  and  only  recommends  assisting  her  on  condition 
that  the  preliminary  information  which  you  obtain  corresponds 
with  what  he  has  heard  of  her. 

Forgive  me,  my  dear  Tourguenief,  for  ever  returning  to  the 
charge,  and  making  such  constant  demands  on  your  indefati- 
gable goodness. 


Sunday  morning. 

MY  DEAR  TOURGUENIEF,* — The  unfortunate  mother  who 
here  solicits  some  aid  from  Her  Majesty  has  been,  for  a  long 
time,  supported  by  the  Patriotic  Society,  whose  enforced  inaction 
leaves  her  in  absolute  want.  She  has  decided  to  return  to  her 
province,  where  she  hopes  to  find  an  asylum ;  but  she  has  no 
means  wherewith  to  prosecute  her  journey,  and  hence  she  has 
had  recourse  to  the  unbounded  charity  of  the  Empress.  As  I 
am  distrustful  of  a  generosity  which  so  often  leads  her  to  over- 
step the  bounds  of  strict  utility,  please  inform  Mine.  Longuinof 
that  one  hundred  roubles  will  be  quite  enough.  I  know  that  it 


58  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

is  extremely  improper  for  me  thus  to  limit  the  amount :  so,  pray, 
keep  my  secret,  but  insinuate  adroitly  something  approximat- 
ing to  the  sum.  I  am  actually  jealous  for  these  consecrated 
riches ;  and,  even  in  a  case  of  necessity,  I  scruple  to  covet 
them. 


Saturday  morning. 

MY  DEAR  TOURGUEXIEF,  —  Will  you  do  me  a  great  favor 
by  suggesting  some  method  of  procuring  a  situation  for  a  little 
girl  nine  or  ten  years  of  age,  of  whom  I  have  taken  charge, 
and  about  -whose  condition  I  would  like  to  feel  at  ease  ?  Could 
not  one,  by  paying  her  board,  obtain  her  admission  into  the 
House  of  Industry  ?  I  know  of  no  one  but  yourself  who  could 
afford  me,  in  this  emergency,  the  information  and  assistance 
needful  to  the  success  of  the  plan  I  have  fixed  on.  Take  pity 
on  my  embarrassment,  and  relieve  me  of  it  by  some  good 
advice. 


Friday,  June  30. 

I  return  the  note  to  M.  Goucharewski,  trusting  it  will  act  as 
a  reminder  of  the  interest  you  promised  to  take  in  procuring  a 
place  for  my  poor  dear  little  girl.  You  have  given  me  so 
many  proofs  of  friendship,  that,  without  hesitating  for  an  instant 
for  fear  this  should  be  the  last,  I  can  assure  you  it  will  make  me 
more  grateful  than  ever.  Please,  if  you  experience  any  diffi- 
culty, try  to  get  her  received  at  my  expense.  I  am  anxious 
that  the  child  should  do  as  well  as  possible.  By  "  well,"  I  mean 
only  that  she  shall  have  a  safe  asylum,  and  an  education  suita- 
ble to  her  station,  which  shall  one  day  insure  her  a  subsistence. 
The  more  simple  that  education,  and  the  more  strictly  confined 
to  manual  employments,  the  better  I  shall  like  it. 

When  you  write,  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  what  the  prospect 
is  for  her.  It  will  set  my  mind  at  rest. 

While  these  various  cares  occupied  the  mind  of  Mme. 
Swetchine,  a  new  tie  was  binding  her  to  St.  Petersburg. 
This  was  the  marriage  of  her  sister  to  Prince  Gregory 
Gargarin,  a  young,  distinguished,  brilliant  man,  who  had 
already  achieved  success  in  many  different  lines,  and  was 
high  in  favor  at  the  court. 

A  friendship  which   remained   paramount  with  Mme. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  59 

Swetchine  as  long  as  she  lived  also  originated  at  about 
this  time.  Mile.  Roxandra  Stourdza,  afterwards  Countess 
Edling,  was  also  residing  with  her  parents  at  St.  Peters- 
burg. The  Stourdza,  a  family  of  Greek  origin,  and  owning 
considerable  property  in  Moldavia,  had  emigrated,  with 
their  children,  after  the  Treaty  of  Jassy,  in  1791,  sacrific- 
ing their  hereditary  interests  and  influence  to  invoke  the 
protection  of  a  Christian  power.1 

M.  and  Mme.  Stourdza  received  a  distinguished  welcome 
from  the  Empress  Catharine ;  and  one  of  their  daughters, 
Roxandra  Stourdza, — born  at  Constantinople,  on  the  12th 
of  October,  1786,  —  was  appointed  maid  of  honor  to  the 
Empress  Elizabeth  as  soon  as  she  had  attained  her  six- 
teenth year.  The  affection  and  confidence  which  she  soon 
won  from  this  princess  attracted  to  the  young  girl  the  notice 
of  superior  minds.  Count  de  Maistre  came  to  share 
their  intimacy ;  and  some  words  of  his  will  help  us  to  a 
better  understanding  of  the  friend  of  Mme.  Swetchine  and 
the  companion  of  the  empress,  who  received,  by  courtesy, 
the  title  of  madame :  — 

MADAME,  —  I  must  be  wholly  destitute  of  persuasive  tal- 
ents, if  the  homage  I  render  to  your  merit  does  not  occupy  a 
prominent  place  among  the  things  which  you  do  not  feel  at  lib- 
erty to  doubt.  I  have  never  wavered,  in  this  article  of  my 
faith,  since  the  happy  moment  of  my  entrance  into  Greece.* 

How  can  I  describe  my  joy  and  relief  at  the  tidings  brought 
me  by  your  amiable  friend  about  your  honored  father  ?  My 
pleasure  is  proportionate  to  the  pain  which  the  contrary  an- 
nouncement caused  me.  I  was  upon  thorns,  —  seeing  the 

1  The  family  of  Stourdza  has  furnished  two  hospodars  to  Moldavia. 
Jean  Stourdza  was  invested  with  this  office  in  1822,  and  reigned  till  1826. 
Prince  Michel  Stourdza,  destined  by  Russia  for  the  hospodarate,  received 
the  investiture  of  the  Porte  in  1834;  and  retired,  in  1849,  on  the  consum- 
mation of  the  deed  of  Balta  Le'mani.  The  fathers  of  Prince  Michel 
Stourdza  and  the  Countess  Edling  were  brothers. 

3  M.  de  Maistre  means  his  introduction  to  the  Stourdza  family. 


60  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

sword  suspended  above  my  excellent  Roxandra's  head,  without 
knowing  where  to  go  for  further  information.  Mine.  Swetchine 
was  so  kind  as  as  to  send  me,  without  the  least  delay,  the  more 
favorable  news,  which  doubtless  she  received  from  you.  But 
you  were  wanting  there.  No  one  should  be  ill  at  your  house 
when  you  are  absent.  I  wanted,  and  I  did  not  want,  to  write. 
I  wanted,  and  I  did  not  want,  to  go  to  Tzarskoe  Selo.1  I  wrote 
to  Mine.  Swetchine,  and  waited,  with  extreme  impatience,  for 
her  reply.  It  came,  and  was  favorable.  Instantly,  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  hastened  to  mingle  my  congratula- 
tions with  those  of  our  mutual  friend,  who  had  shared  all  my 
distress.  What  a  miserable  world!  —  trouble  if  we  love,  and 
trouble  if  we  do  not  love :  a  few  drops  of  honey,  as  Chateau- 
briand says,  in  a  cup  of  wormwood,  "  The  rod,  my  child !  it  is 
for  thy  good  !  "  —  "  Much  obliged,  but  I  prefer  sugar." 

Rodolphe  de  Maistre  having  been  admitted  into  the 
Russian  military  service,  M.  de  Maistre  thus  expresses  his 
anxieties  to  Mile.  Stourdza :  — 

"  Since  your  departure,  my  soul  has  been  busy  with  misfor- 
tunes. My  son  has  left  me.  I  see  our  excellent  friend,  Mme. 
Swetchine,  as  often  as  possible.  She  understands  me,  and 
comforts  me  very  much ;  and  I  need  it  sadly. 

"  When  shall  we  have  you  to  ourselves  again,  my  dear  and 
esteemed  friend  ?  and  when  shall  we  have  another  chat  around 
that  table  where  the  tea  is  only  a  form  ? 

"  Our  good  friend  Sophia  is  the  same  as  when  you  left  her; 
that  is,  good  and  lovable  to  the  last  degree,  but  without  any 
fixed  principles  about  her  health.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  this 
sort  of  disposition  vexes  me.  At  the  first  glance,  she  appears 
perfectly  well,  and  one  can  never  feel  sure  about  her.  It  is  her 
sole  deception.  Still,  she  is  better  than  little  Nadine,  who  ap- 
pears to  me  to  have  made  very  bad  progress.  They  call  her 
Better ;  but  I  have  not  much  confidence  in  it.  I  am  sensible 
how  necessary  her  sweet  companionship  is  to  the  excellent  lady  ; 
and,  if  things  take  an  unfavorable  turn,  as  they  may,  it  will  be 
a  terrible  blow  to  her." 

The  letters  of  Count  de  Maistre  have  already  revived 
the  memory  of  the  Countess  Edling.  Those  of  Mme. 


1  A  palace  about  five  leagues  from  St.  Petersburg,  the  favorite  summer 
residence  of  the  imperial  family. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  61 

Swetchine  will  suffice  to  clothe  her  name  with  an  undying 
interest. 

This  precious  correspondence  will  give  us  a  picture,  not 
merely  of  Mme.  Swetchirie's  life  at  that  period,  but  of  her 
inner  self,  —  of  the  unconstrained  workings  of  her  mind 
and  heart :  — 

"  If  I  did  not  fear  a  silent  reproof  (these  are  the  only  ones 
I  fear),  I  should  tell  you  that  my  heart  is  absorbed  by  regrets 
at  our  separation ;  and  that,  since  Monday,  every  moment  at 
my  own  disposal  has  been  replete  with  the  emptiness  left  by 
your  absence.  One  may  not  consult  one's  personal  interest, 
but  it  is  very  difficult  to  hush  its  voice  entirely.  Yet  my  eyes 
and  head  are  so  weary  with  the  light  and  din  that  reign  at 
Kameni  Ostrof,  that  I  delight  to  think  of  you  among  your  beau- 
tiful, shady  alleys,  where  I,  with  my  uncivilized  nature,  should 
ask  only  a  little  more  solitude.  I  should  like  this  residence  of 
Tzarskoe  Selo  extravagantly,  if  there  were  fewer  people  here, 
and  on  condition  that  you  were  one  of  them.  The  more  I  think 
of  it,  the  more  analogy  I  discover  between  my  situation  and 
purgatory.  Our  recollections  will  preserve  all  their  pristine 
force  :  love,  prayer,  suffering,  and  hope  will  make  up  the  lives 
of  the  inhabitants,  —  all  except  ennui,  of  which  life  has  more  ; 
and  this  inclines  the  balance  considerably  in  favor  of  purga- 
tory. 

"  Speaking  of  prayer,  I  never  knew  so  many  circumstances 
to  unite  in  disposing  me  to  it  as  on  the  occasion  of  the  con- 
secration of  Prince  Galitzin's  chapel,  which  I  attended  this 
morning.  I  thought  much  of  you,  my  friend,  and  regretted 
that  you  were  not  there.  I  have  never  witnessed  a  more 
magical  effect, — the  graceful  form  of  the  chapel,  which  is 
decorated  with  simple  elegance ;  the  mellow,  golden  light 
with  which  it  was  irradiated :  the  melodious  voices,  issuing  one 
knew  not  whence  ;  the  quiet  pomp  of  the  service,  —  Philaretus 
in  the  midst  of  it  all ;  the  assembly  of  three  hundred  persons  ; 
the  silence  which  piety  demands  and  maintains ;  in  short,  my 
friend,  a  species  of  actual  enchantment,  whose  remembrance 
even  now  transports  me.  Ah,  how  such  situations  favor  medi- 
tation !  I  actually  thought  myself  alone,  and  only  recovered 
from  this  illusion  to  enjoy  the  sight  of  so  many  persons,  differ- 
ing widely  among  themselves,  but  absorbed  for  one  moment  in 
a  sentiment  common  to  all.  It  is  only  religious  thoughts  which 
can  produce  this  effect ;  and  it  is  always  wonderful.  The  very 


62  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

words  which  stir  to  their  depths  the  souls  of  the  simple  and 
ignorant  denizens  of  the  desert  seemed  to-day  to  fix  the  at- 
tention of  frivolous  spirits,  and  excite  emotion  in  the  enervated, 
and  perhaps  tainted,  souls  of  creatures  intoxicated  by  pros- 
perity." 

Among  those  who  will  one  day  kneel  in  the  chapel  of 
Mme.  Swetchine,  none  will  have  read  without  emotion  the 
lines  in  which  she  foreshadows  and  describes,  so  many 
years  beforehand,  what  she  herself  was  yet  to  realize  at 
Paris.  It  is  her  inexhaustible  charity  which  is  illustrated 
by  the  next  letter :  — 

MY  DEAR  ROXAXDRA, — We  have  had,  this  morning,  a 
stormy  meeting,  which  distressed  me,  and  will  long  continue  to 
do  so.  The  Countess  Orlof  had  set  her  heart  upon  having 
Mme.  daC.  received  in  her  place  when  she  goes  to  England. 
She  applied  to  me,  and  I  told  her  that  all  I  could  do  would  be 
to  propose  her  name.  After  sounding  our  ladies,  one  by  one, 
I  found  that  they  were  horrified  at  the  idea  of  admitting  among 
them  Mme.  de  C.,  with  her  very  doubtful  reputation.  Yes- 
terday, at  the  close  of  the  meeting,  Mme.  Orlof  pressed  the 
point,  and,  in  spite  my  entreaties,  would  have  it  put  to  vote. 
It  was  rejected  by  an  almost  unanimous  negative,  and  the 
most  unpleasant  reasons  adduced  ;  and  all  my  precautions  have 
been  unavailing  to  shield  Mine,  de  C.  from  the  humiliation 
which  she  owes  entirely  to  Mme.  Orlofs  obstinacy.  How  true 
it  is,  that  a  malicious  enemy  is  better  than  a  clumsy  friend !  I 
am  far  from  condemning  the  ladies  who  opposed  the  proposi- 
tion ;  I  agree  with  them  about  the  desirability  of  maintaining 
order  in  our  establishment ;  but  I  must  confess,  dear  Roxan- 
dra,  that,  if  these  scenes  occurred  often,  they  would  go  far  to 
disgust  me  with  it.  Besides,  I  cannot  strike  one  in  the  face  in 
this  way.  I  believe  I  am  capable  of  sufficient  zeal  and  strict- 
ness :  but  when  it  comes  to  publishing  so  unfavorable  an  opinion, 
and  making  parade  of  one's  severity ;  to  crushing  any  woman, 
or  causing  her  to  blush,  however  just  it  may  be,  and  however 
much  one's  duty,  —  I  feel  that  I  am  incapable  of  it.  The  tiling 
surpasses  my  firmness.  You  can  judge  how  all  this  suits  my 
love  of  peace,  which  is  such  that  I  have  always  suspected  that 
the  soul  of  the  Abbe"  de  St.  Pierre  had  passed  into  mine  by 
means  of  metempsychosis. 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  G3 

At  that  period,  Mme.  Swetchine  was  enjoying  a  great 
deal  in  her  family  relations.  The  Princess  Gargarin  was 
residing  at  St.  Petersburg.  The  two  sisters  lived  apart,  but 
indemnified  themselves  for  their  separation  by  renting  a 
country-house  together  through  the  summer,  when  the  two 
households  were  united,  either  on  the  isles  of  the  Neva, 
or  in  the  vicinity  of  Peterhof  and  Tzarskoe  Selo.  In  the 
course  of  a  few  years,  the  Princess  Gargarin  had  five  sons. 
The  two  eldest  were  the  objects  of  Mme.  Swetchine's 
especial  partiality,  though  all  were  tenderly  loved.  "  They 
are  all  my  nephews,"  she  used  to  say ;  "  but  the  two  first 
ones  are  my  children."  She  joined  in  their  plays  and 
their  lessons,  and  watched  with  delight  the  development 
of  their  young  intellects.  Remarking  the  extreme  defer- 
ence which  Princess  Gargarin's  second  son,  Eugene,  paid 
to  his  elder  brother,  Gregory,  she  said  of  him,  "  He  even 
tries  not  to  grow,  for  fear  of  outstripping  his  brother." 
The  children,  for  their  part,  confounded  mother  and  aunt, 
and  were  impatient  of  any  thing  which  kept  the  latter 
away  from  them.  Mme.  Swetchine  was  sometimes  obliged 
to  lock  herself  into  her  room,  in  order  to  pursue  her  be- 
loved studies  in  peace.  The  little  boys  then  armed  them- 
selves with  their  noisiest  playthings,  collected  outside  her 
door,  and  made  all  the  disturbance  in  their  power,  to  in- 
duce their  aunt  to  desist.  Many  a  time,  Mme.  Swetchine 
yielded  to  this  uproarious  summons  ;  sometimes,  however, 
she  remained  inflexible  ;  but,  the  moment  she  unlocked  her 
door,  the  children  forced  an  entrance,  sure  of  being  re- 
ceived, not  with  chiding,  but  with  smiles  and  kisses. 

This  sweet  family  life  lasted  till  1811.  At  that  time, 
General  Swetchine  petitioned  to  return  to  active  service ; 
and,  while  he  went  to  meet  the  French,  Mme.  Swetchine 
retired  to  her  estates  in  the  provinces  of  Nijni  and  Sara- 


64  LIFE    OP   MADAME    STVETCHINE. 

tof.  At  the  same  time,  another  woman,  pursued  by  the 
hostility  of  Napoleon,  fled  from  Vienna,  crossed  Poland, 
and  reached  St.  Petersburg  by  way  of  Kiew  and  Moscow. 
Even  Petersburg  was  not  the  limit  of  that  long  journey, 
which  constitutes,  together  with  "  Corinne,"  the  eloquent 
Odyssey  entitled  "  Ten  Years  in  Exile."  Mme.  de  Stael 
believed  herself  secure  only  in  Stockholm  ;  and  when  Mme. 
Swetchine  returned  to  the  habitual  centre  of  her  existence, 
she  found  there  only  a  brilliant  memory. 

The  meeting  which  she  regretted  having  missed,  and 
which  the  two  would  equally  have  appreciated,  was  re- 
served for  Paris. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  65 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Invasion  of  Eussia  by  the  Emperor  Napoleon. — Mme.  Swetchine  is  ap- 
pointed president  of  the  Soldiers'  Aid  Society.  —  Letter  to  the  Abbe" 
Nicolle. —  Correspondence  with  Mile.  Stourdza  during  the  years  1813 
and  1814. 

THE  sentiment  of  duty  was  always  so  strong  with 
Mme.  Swetchine,  that  patriotism  could  hold  no 
secondary  place  in  her  soul.  The  time  at  which  she 
lived,  and,  still  more,  her  deliberate  convictions,  inclined 
her  to  that  order  of  ideas  which  awards  to  one's  country 
the  right  of  demanding  every  sacrifice,  and  which  recog- 
nizes in  the  sovereign  the  natural  centre  of  all  patriotic 
regard,  affection,  and  devotion. 

As  soon  as  Russia  was  menaced  by  France,  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  put  the  finishing  touch  to  the  enthusiasm 
of  his  subjects,  by  taking  the  head  of  his  army  in  person, 
and  associating,  in  a  few  words,  simply  and  nobly  spoken, 
the  cause  of  his  crown  with  the  cause  of  the  people  and 
of  justice.  "  I  will  be  with  you,"  he  said,  in  his  first  proc- 
lamation to  the  Russian  nation, — "  I  will  be  with  you,  and 
God  will  be  against  the  aggressor."  <* 

The  military  courage  of  Alexander  was  proved  equal  to 
his  political  ability.  In  the  midst  of  a  warm  engagement, 
the  General,  Prince  Wittgenstein,  sent  one  of  his  aids  to 
the  Emperor  to  beg  him  to  be  less  reckless  of  his  life ;  add- 
ing, that  his  presence  deprived  him  of  the  coolness  neces- 
sary to  military  operations.  The  bullet  which  cost  Gen- 

5 


CG  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SAVETCHINE. 

eral  Moreau  his  life,  before  Dresden,  covered  Alexander 
with  dust. 

The  humane  feelings  of  the  Emperor,  which  had  always 
been  lively  and  sincere,  were  conspicuously  manifested  dur- 
ing this  war,  so  disastrous  to  both  the  contending  parties. 
He  visited  the  French  and  Russian  wounded,  without  dis- 
tinction, as  they  lay  upon  the  frozen  ground.  More  than 
once  he  shed  tears,  as  he  listened  to  cries  of  anguish 
and  last  adieus,  uttered  in  every  European  tongue.  All 
the  soldiers  who  could  be  moved  were  collected  in  the 
hospitals  ;  but  there  again  they  were  decimated  by  epidemic 
diseases.  The  Duke  of  Oldenburg,  brother-in-law  to  the 
Emperor,  was  seized  with  typhus,  and  died.  It  was  no 
check  upon  Alexander,  nor  could  any  representation  pre- 
vail over  his  desire  to  superintend  and  relieve  the  cares 
necessitated  by  so  much  suffering.  In  order  to  render  his 
oversight  more  efficient,  he  was  careful  to  preserve  a  strict 
incognito.  One  day,  when  he  was  telling  the  Cpuntess  de 
Choiseul  of  the  care  he  had  been  taking  of  a  poor  Spanish 
prisoner,  the  lady  asked  him  if  it  was  true  that  he  had 
been  recognized  on  his  visit  to  the  hospital.  "  Yes,"  he 
answered  simply,  "  in  the  officers'  room ;  but  generally 
they  take  me  for  one  of  General  St.  Priest's  aides-de- 
camp." 1 

Such  examples  fire  the  heart  of  a  nation ;  and  all  Rus- 
sia desired  to  emulate  the  Emperor  Alexander  in  relieving 
the  countless  victims  of  the  war.  A  ladies'  society,  for 
investigation  and  distribution,  was  organized  at  St.  Peters- 
burg, under  the  patronage  of  the  Empress  Elizabeth.  The 
most  distinguished  ladies  hastened  to  join  it,  moved  by  the 
spontaneous  impulse  which  animated  rich  and  poor,  lord 

Memoires  de  M.  de  Choiseul,  p.  161. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  07 

and  peasant,  merchant  and  soldier.     Mme.  Swetchine  was 
chosen  president.     She  was  then  thirty  years  of  age. 

We  find  evidence  of  her  activity,  and  of  the  value  already 
set  upon  a  few  of  her  words,  in  a  letter  preserved  among 
the  papers,  and  afterwards  among  the  posthumous  effects,  of 
the  Abbe  Nicolle.  The  latter,  justly  affected  by  the  suffer- 
ings of  his  adopted  country,  had  desired  to  give  her  some 
proof  of  his  gratitude ;  but  he  did  not  forget  that  he  was 
a  Frenchman.  He  thought  to  reconcile  conflicting  duties 
by  sending  anonymously  to  the  Aid  Society  the  sum  of 
three  thousand  roubles.  This  delicate  precaution  could 
not  deceive  a  delicacy  equal  to  his  own ;  and  Mme.  Swet- 
chiue  wrote  him  as  follows  :  — 

MONSIEUR  L'ABBE,  —  I  will  only  say,  that  I  recognize 
you.  Perhaps  this  simple  expression  may  fail  to  convey  to  you 
an  idea  of  my  personal  gratitude  ;  but  I  should  have  been  mor- 
tified to  be  obliged  to  learn  what  I  so  easily  divined.  Even  if 
Prince  Galitzin  had  not  soon  betrayed  you  by  exhibiting  the 
pleasure  one  always  has  in  revealing  the  author  of  a  good  ac- 
tion, the  incognito  in  which  you  shrouded  yourself  would  not 
have  served  you.  Do  not,  however,  attribute  this  to  my  pene- 
tration, but  to  that  public  opinion  which  ever  does  you  homage  : 
for  several  of  our  ladies  had  the  same  thought ;  and,  the  moment 
it  was  expressed,  others  shared  it.  So  you  can  see  whether  or 
no  it  was  in  our  power  to  respect  your  wishes,  and  keep  the 
matter  secret. 

The  south  of  Russia  had  recently  been  ravaged  by  the 
plague.  The  Abbe  Nicolle  seconded  the  Duke  de  Riche- 
lieu in  his  noble  charitable  labors,  as  well  as  in  his  attempts 
to  civilize  the  people.  They  have  both  been  seen,  with 
their  mattocks,  going  from  the  houses  of  the  infected  to  the 
cemetery,  to  dig,  with  their  own  hands,  the  graves  of  the 
dead.  "  Odessa  owes  her  life  twice  over  to  the  Duke  de 
Richelieu,"  —  such  was  the  cry  of  Russia,  sweet  for  a 
Frenchman  to  repeat.  Mine.  Swetchine  closes  her  letter 
as  follows :  — 


68  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"  I  know  that  no  place  of  residence  can  be  as  pleasant  to 
you  as  Odessa.  There  you  find  at  once  repose  and  activity, 
constant  and  agreeable  society,  and,  what  must  still  more  at- 
tach you  to  the  place,  the  certainty  of  being  useful.  But  may 
you  not  be  so  everywhere  ?  And  if  a  clear  sky  and  a  fine  cli- 
mate are  a  source  of  daily  enjoyment,  the  South  pays  dearly  lor 
it  in  the  plague  which  has  desolated  her  so  long.  The  personal 
interest  which  makes  me  so  earnest  for  your  return  exaggerates 
to  my  mind  the  dangers  to  which  you  may  still  be  exposed ;  and, 
when  anxiety  about  pestilence  is  added  to  the  regrets  of  friend- 
ship, I  know  of  no  arguments  strong  enough  to  combat  them. 
Try  to  come  back  to  us  soon.  Have  you  not  here,  as  well  as 
there,  books  and  friends  ?  "  ' 

M.  de  Maistre,  whom  we  always  love  to  see  beside 
Mme.  Swetchine,  wrote,  at  the  same  time,  to  the  Abbe 
Nicolle :  — 

Aug.  13, 1813. 

A  pestilence  is  one  of  the  most  searching  of  sermons ;  and 
one  need  not  be  constituted  like  you  to  derive  great  spiritual 
profit  from  such  a  scene.  It  distresses  me  to  think  of  you  as 
undergoing  so  cruel  an  experience ;  and  I  am  no  less  anxious 
about  M.  de  Richelieu,  who  has  found,  in  this  scourge,  an  oppor- 
tunity of  showing  himself,  not  only  better  than  others,  but  bet- 
ter, if  possible,  than  himself.  What  a  trial !  What  exertions  ! 
Thank  God,  it  is  over ! 

The  wave  of  invasion  had  spent  itself  in  Russia ;  but 
events  outside  had  only  advanced  from  one  crisis  to  an- 
other. 

In  1813,  the  Emperor  moved  his  head-quarters  to 
Germany.  It  had  been  the  wish  of  the  Empress  to  ac- 
company him,  but  she  had  not  carried  her  point ;  and 
Alexander's  indifference  was  thought  to  have  had  more  to 
do  with  his  refusal  than  the  embarrassments  of  war.  Her 
Majesty  was  obliged  to  be  content  to  follow  her  husband's 
march  at  a  distance ;  and  she  repaired  successively  to  Riga, 

i  See  the  Life  of  the  Abbe"  Nicolle,  by  the  Abbe"  Frappat. 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  69 

to  Weimar  (whose  grand-duchess  was  Alexander's  sister), 
to  Berlin,  and  to  the  other  German  capitals,  in  the  line  of 
military  events.  Mme.  Swetchine's  friend,  Mile.  Stourdza, 
accompanied  the  Empress  on  this  long  and  painful  journey. 
The  letters  of  Mile.  Stourdza  to  Mme.  Swetchine  are  no 
longer  in  existence.  Those  of  the  latter  have  been  pi- 
ously preserved,  and  they  suffice  to  admit  us  to  the  souls 
of  these  two  friends.  They  are  marked  by  infallible 
rectitude,  and  constant  elevation  of  judgment.  We  see  in 
them  the  development  and  the  growth  of  steadfastness, 
breadth  of  view  and  disinterestedness,  and  are  struck  with 
respectful  astonishment,  as  we  follow  these  two  women, 
step  by  step,  in  their  intimacy.  Young,  brilliant,  connected 
with  all  that  has  ever  been  most  sounding  and  seductive  in 
human  affairs,  they  drew  therefrom  only  grave  lessons  in 
politics  and  morality,  and  aspired  only  to  impassioned 
friendship,  philanthropy,  or  solitude.  The  letters  bear  no 
date ;  but  the  facts  to  which  they  allude  refer  them  in- 
contestably  to  the  close  of  1812,  and  to  the  year  follow- 
ing:— 

Tuesday  evening. 

Your  note,  my  friend,  was  not  the  cause  of  my  incurable 
regrets  ;  but  it  intensified  them.  I  was  not  expecting  it :  the 
address  was  in  an  unfamiliar  hand ;  and  when  I  opened  it,  and 
recognized  your  writing,  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  never  lost  you, 
but  was  even  then  experiencing  the  agony  of  parting.  To  feel 
grief  intensely,  one  must  needs  have  been  a  long  time  happy, 
or  supposed  one's  self  so ;  for,  in  a  colorless  existence,  one  but 
passes  into  a  deeper  shadow,  through  almost  imperceptible  di- 
minutions of  light.  Doubtless,  my  love  will  be  a  consolation  to 
you  :  I  am  sure  of  it;  but  that  word  "  consolation  "  is  so  sad, 
when  it  has  any  meaning  at  all,  that  I  would  rather  you  found 
my  friendship  a  superfluity  amid  other  more  worthy  and  pre- 
cious boons.  1  am  often  surprised  to  find  myself  envying  those 
whose  impressions  are  light  and  variable.  The  sponge  passes 
over  the  slate,  and  leaves  no  trace ;  and  perhaps  it  is  the  fittest 
type  of  the  nature  of  man,  whose  pleasures  are  for  a  moment, 
while  his  pains  are  for  a  lifetime.  If  he  have  but  moral  dignity  ! 


70  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

But  you  are  not  the  one  to  rest  satisfied  without  it.  So  try  to 
submit  to  your  destiny.  It  is  an  eternal  one.  I  think  of  noth- 
ing but  your  sufferings.  The  state  of  your  health  troubles  me 
exceedingly.  How  have  you  borne  the  severe  cold  which  has 
prevailed  since  you  left  ?  I  am  awaiting  your  letter  from  Riga 
with  indescribable  impatience.  I  am  confined  to  my  room  ;  and 
tlio  twenty-five  or  thirty  degrees  of  cold  of  the  last  few  days 
have  increased  my  habitual  chronic  ills  at  least  twofold.  What 
effect  must  they  produce  upon  you,  with  your  impaired  health? 
I  am  convinced  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  North  will  have  noth- 
ing but  an  inferno  of  ice.  Fire,  in  any  shape,  would  be  wel- 
come to  them.  Tell  me  particularly  of  your  health,  and  take 
the  utmost  care  of  it.  Dilate  upon  the  measures  you  have 
taken.  Whatever  interest  you  may  feel  in  your  own  preserva- 
tion, others  feel  yet  more ;  and  what  would  be  a  piece  of 
egotism  in  many  people  will  be  specially  benevolent  in  you. 

I  am  writing  in  great  haste.  If  you  will  believe  it,  I  have 
scarely  had  a  moment  to  myself  since  you  left.  I  feel  keenly 
that  movement  is  not  diversion  ;  and  that  one  unchanging  idea 
may  dominate  over  all  the  cares  which  share  one's  life  between 
them,  but  cannot  fill  it.  Adieu,  my  friend.  How  many  times 
already  has  that  word  filled  my  heart  with  bitterness  !  The  head 
of  Medusa  is  no  exaggerated  image.  I  trust  your  health  will 
improve.  Seek  help  of  God  ;  use  your  strength  without  abus- 
ing it ;  and,  when  the  conflict  becomes  too  unequal,  abandon 
it,  and  ask  divine  grace. 

My  husband,  who  has  conceived  a  strong  liking  for  you, 
charges  me,  as  does  also  Nadine,  to  present  his  respects. 
Adieu,  once  more,  dear  friend.  I  cannot  bear  to  close  this  let- 
ter. As  if  a  paltry  piece  of  paper  could  give  back  to  me  the 
joy  of  your  presence  ! 

While  I  was  at  our  estate,  which  was  a  perfect  limbo, 
Count  de  Maistre  thought  he  did  a  prodigious  thing  to  send  me 
a  short  letter,  or  rather  a  long  note,  every  month  or  six  weeks. 
You  had  been  gone  but  three  weeks  wanting  two  days,  when  he 
mentioned  having  written  to  you ;  and,  shortly  after,  he  sends 
you  an  immense  packet :  and  who  knows  if  the  quality  be  not 
more  outrageous  than  the  quantity  ?  The  song  says,  - 

"  Sans  un  petit  brin  d'amonr,1 
Oil  s'ennuie  meme  a  la  cour." 

I  do  wish  you  would  add  this  to  your  other  sources  of  enjoy- 
ment, and  then  you  would  experience  to  the  full  the  persecu- 


Without  a  little  spice  of  love,  it  is  tedious  even  at  court. 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  71 

tions  of  prosperity.  Only  do  not  rob  the  poor  of  their  pittance, 
and  let  all  have  their  share.  Mine,  last  evening,  was  a  very 
pleasant  one.  M.  de  Maistre  eame.  1  was  slightly  indisposed, 
and  he  took  pity  on  me.  Hence  more  sleep,  more  dogmas,  and 
a  good  deal  of  kindly  indulgence.  We  laughed  ;  we  chatted  ; 
took  turns  in  telling  stories ;  and  retired,  contented  with  our- 
selves and  the  world.  .  .  . 

The  armistice1  at  first  shut  the  mouths  of  all  the  boy-prophets. 
They  hung  their  heads,  and  (bided  their  wings,  to  think  they  had 
not  foreseen  the  great  event.  Since  then,  however,  they  have 
regained  their  inspired  and  threatening  tone;  and  I  perceive 
that  nothing  is  harder  than  to  disconcert  a  fabricator  of  hy- 
potheses. There  is  an  English  piece  called  "All  in  the  Wrong ; " 
and  a  clever  man  remarked  to  me,  that  Europe  in  general 
seemed  to  be  playing  this  comedy,  in  which  all  the  dramatis 
personce,  from  first  to  last,  are  involved  in  a  series  of  blun- 
ders. My  soul  is  too  weak  long  to  endure  the  activity  of  hope 
in  any  matter.  Conversely,  when  everybody  is  desponding,  the 
very  uncertainty  and  instability  of  events  afford  me  some  con- 
solation. 


Thursday. 

What  are  we  to  think  of  the  extension  of  the  armistice? 
They  say  the  news  is  contained  in  a  letter  from  Lord  Cathcart. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  claimed  that  the  Emperor's  commands 
to  Prince  Gortshakof  are  of  quite  another  tenor.  Meanwhile, 
a  reliable  man,  lately  from  Moscow,  tells  me  that  the  first  ti- 
dings of  the  armistice  which  has  just  expired  were  received  with 
unmixed  consternation,  and  that  those  who  were  beginning  to 
rebuild  suspended  operations. 


Monday,  26th. 

I  confess  that  I  am  beginning  to  be  seriously  sick  of  my  pri- 
vations, and  that  an  interesting  grief  is  a  thing  I  can  no  longer 
imagine.  As  we  advance  in  life,  the  circle  of  our  pains  en- 
larges, while  that  of  our  pleasures  contracts ;  and,  among  the 
latter,  I  know  of  none  more  alluring  than  a  sweet  and  confiden- 
tial converse  which  begins  with  an  interchange  of  ideas,  and 
ends  with  one  of  sentiments,  —  a  seemingly  accidental  com- 
munion, which,  when  earnest,  is  among  the  best  gifts  of  Provi- 
dence. All  this  I  have  found  in  our  intercourse,  and  particularly 
in  that  part  of  it  to  which  you  allude.  It  is  a  long  time,  dear, 

1  This  fixes  the  date  of  this  letter  at  the  commencement  of  1813. 


72  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

since  I  have  experienced  such  genuine  comfort.  Believe  me, 
we  never  know  any  persons  perfectly,  save  those  whom  we  di- 
vine at  first  sight.  A  thorough  mutual  understanding;  the 
power  of  penetrating  into  all  the  recesses  of  another's  being, 
and  attaining  that  perfect  acquaintance  which  lays  his  whole  soul 
open  to  our  eyes,  —  these  are  dependent  upon  a  sort  of  analogy 
of  character,  a  likeness  in  dissimilarity.  It  always  seems  to  me 
as  if  souls  sought  one  another  in  the  chaos  of  the  world,  like 
those  kindred  elements  which  have  a  tendency  to  re-unite. 
They  come  in  contact ;  they  feel  that  they  agree  ;  and  confidence 
is  established  between  them,  often  without  their  being  able  to 
assign  any  valid  cause.  Reason  and  reflection  come  afterward ; 
place  upon  the  treaty  the  seal  of  their  approbation ;  and  think 
it  is  all  their  work,  like  those  subordinate  ministers  who  take 
credit  for  their  master's  transactions,  for  no  better  reason  than 
that  they  have  been  permitted  to  sign  their  names  thereto.  No  : 
I  fear  no  mistakes  with  you ;  and  only  the  fulness  of  my  recog- 
nition can  equal  the  perfect  confidence  with  which  you  inspire 
me.  .  .  . 

We  have  had  two  days  of  the  liveliest  anxiety,  due  simply  and 
solely  to  the  vagueness  and  mystery  in  which  they  shroud  the 
news,  which  is  not  so  alarming  now  that  all  is  known.  But 
here,  as  elsewhere,  I  suppose,  there  is  a  vast  number  of  people 
who  oscillate  between  the  predictions  of  Jeremiah  and  the  in- 
credulity of  Thomas.  Certainly,  for  one's  own  peace  and  that 
of  others,  one  ought  to  take  different  examples  from  Scripture. 
It  is  droll  enough,  that  people  will  not  learn  even  to  doubt  with 
diffidence  ;  but  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  scepticism  has  found 
itself  dogmatic.  Intolerance  in  politics  is  carried  farther  than 
ever.  Woe  to  him  who  speaks,  and  woe  to  him  who  is  silent ! 
Woe  to  him  who  suspends  his  condemnation,  and  woe  to  him 
who  does  not  overdo  his  praise  !  There  are  two  or  three  sto- 
ries current  here  about  eagles  floating  and  soaring  above  the 
Marshal's  '  remains.  I  know  of  no  more  successful  fable  since 
the  days  of  Herodotus,  whom  you  are  reading.  It  is  very  well 
to  say  that  man  has  need  of  faith.  He  has  another  need  also ; 
namely,  to  aim  unceasingly  at  a  higher  degree  of  folly  than 
has  been  assigned  him. 

Count  de  Maistre  came  to  see  me  yesterday ;  but  I  was  not 
in,  and  therefore  could  not  acquit  myself  of  your  commission. 
He  misses  you ;  and  I  need  not  tell  you,  dear,  whether  or  no 

l  Marshal  Koutouzof  died  at  Bunzlau  on  the  10th  of  May,  1813.  His 
body  was  solemnly  transported  to  Russia;  and  the  people  pretended  that 
an  eagle  constantly  hovered  above  his  coffin  during  the  funeral  march. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  73 

this  is  a  new  point  of  contact  between  him  and  me.  I  wish  my 
friendship  for  him  made  him  fond  of  my  society ;  but  he  must 
needs  have  yours  in  connection  with  it.  With  both  of  us,  he 
appeared  content.  He  seemed  to  say,  like  Peter  upon  Tabor, 
"  It  is  good  to  be  here."  How  heartily  would  I,  too,  say  it,  if 
I  were  with  you  !  Rudolf1  goes  to-day,  or  rather  to-morrow. 
When  I  know  that  he  is  fairly  gone,  I  shall  get  the  Princess 
Alexis  to  visit  his  father  with  me,  and  use  every  effort  to  dis- 
tract his  mind  from  his  sorrow,  in  the  only  way  in  which  I 
conceive  such  distraction  to  be  possible ;  that  is,  by  sharing  it. 


Thursday  evening. 

If  you  were  not  away,  my  friend,  I  should  enjoy  much,  and 
my  pleasures  would  have  a  keener  zest.  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  1  pass  my  days  in  the  study  of  ethical  medicine,  and 
passive  obedience  will  always  be  the  basis  of  my  system. 
Slander  it  as  you  will,  I  have  never  been  at  peace  elsewhere; 
and  when  one  has  found  a  rest  for  the  head,  even  upon  marble, 
one  should  not  change  one's  position.  I  have  never  met  with 
any  palliative  which  was  not  superseded  by  the  grand  remedy, 
save  occupation  :  and  I  sometimes  long  to  give  myself  up  to  it ; 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  time  my  ill-health  subjects  me  to  the 
fate  of  Tantalus,  who,  when  we  meet  in  the  valley  of  Jehosha- 
phat,  will  probably  have  nothing  to  tell  me. 

I  told  Count  de  Aiaistre  your  story  of  the  German  baron,  — 
a  story  whose  patriarchal  turn,  embellished  by  all  the  poetry  at 
my  command,  I  thought,  should  have  conquered  him.  He 
charged  me  to  tell  you  that  it  was  "  shocking."  So  much  for 
the  success  of  my  poetry  upon  your  prose !  Being  unable  to 
let  the  matter  rest,  he  started  from  the  points  that  the  divorce 
having  been  defended  by  I  know  not  what  council,  in  I  know 
not  what  year,  &c.  ;  and  thereupon  followed  a  beautiful  dis- 
course, rather  theological  than  sentimental.  Do  what  we  will, 
my  friend,  — 

Rome  se  met  toujours  entre  lui  et  son  cceur.2 

Have  I  not  produced  a  fine  verse  ? 

As  for  me.  who  am  not  bristling  with  arguments,  and,  in  the 
matter  of  dogmas,  have  a  singular  aptitude  for  that  of  sacrifice, 
i  must  confess  that  there  was  something  preternatural  in  that 


1  Count  de  Maistre's  son. 

a  Rome  is  always  coming  between  him  and  his  heart. 


74  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

act  of  self-devotion  which  powerfully  attracted  me.  Adieu,  my 
friend.  I  cannot  imagine  the  continuation- of  obstacles  which 
could  long  withhold  me  from  writing  to  you.  I  await  impa- 
tiently your  letter  from  Berlin.  Tell  me  fully  of  what  you  are 
doing,  and  particularly  of  your  mood  of  mind.  There  are  a 
thousand  situations  from  which  one  can  only  extricate  one's  self 
by  the  extreme  of  heavenly  resignation,  or  the  extreme  of 
worldly  levity.  You  know  nothing  of  the  latter.  Try  to  have 
recourse  to  the  former,  and  so  complete  the  recovery  of  your 
strength.  I  embrace  you  with  all  my  heart. 


September,  1813. 

I  have  been  longing  to  write  to  you,  and  all  yesterday  and 
to-day  have  actually  been  lying  in  wait  for  a  moment  in  which 
to  do  so.  You,  too,  my  dear  friend,  have  .had  a  broken 
and  fatiguing  day,  although  of  a  very  different  kind.  I  have 
thought  at  intervals  of  all  your  grandeur ;  picturing  to  my- 
self my  dear  lloxandra  with  a  tranquil  exterior,  but  sorely 
entiuyee  at  heart.  Has  it  not  been  so  ?  Yet  I  do  not  so  much 
compassionate  those  people  in  the  amphitheatre,  who,  like  you, 
can  indemnify  themselves  by  observing  others ;  but  the  poor 
observed,  —  when  they  play  their  part,  —  is  there  any  patience 
equal  to  theirs  ?  I  would  quite  as  soon  be  the  counterpart  of 
St.  Simeon  Stylites  on  the  top  of  his  column.  To-day,  how- 
ever, I  fancy  that  I  could  bear  any  thing,  even  that,  with 
the  utmost  philosophy ;  the  excellent  news  which  we  con- 
tinue to  receive  puts  me  in  such  "  high  spirits."  I  am  more 
hopeful  than  ever.  We  can  never  make  blunders  enough  to 
paralyze  so  many  resources,  and  betray  so  brilliant  a  begin- 
ning. Since  Count  de  Langeron  has  beaten  the  enemy,  it  ap- 
pears extremely  probable  to  me  that  he  will  continue  to  do  so. 
If  we  are  not  deceived,  and  our  force  is  what  they  say,  only 
misunderstandings  and  low  jealousies  can  prevent  it ;  and  it  is 
to  be  hoped,  that,  for  once  at  least,  quarrelling  will  be  in  abey- 
ance till  the  common  enemy  is  worsted.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
deeply  1  have  been  affected  by  the  misfortune  which  has  fallen  on 
the  good  cause,  in  the  person  of  Moreau.1  What  a  subject  for 

1  General  Moreau,  transferred  to  the  United  States  in  consequence  of 
the  lawsuit  which  Bonaparte  had  commenced  against  him,  landed  at  Goth- 
embourg  in  the  month  of  July,  1613.  He  entered  into  relations  with  the 
allied  sovereigns  through  the  medium  of  his  old  companion  in  arms,  Berna- 
dotte,  who  was  then  Prince  Royal  of  Sweden.  The  armistice  had  j  ust 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  75 

a  pompous  exordium  on  the  part  of  the  monster !  and  to  what 
account  will  he  turn  it  in  impressing  the  French  mind !  But 
when  I  think  that  the  same  blow  might  have  fallen  on  the 
Emperor,  and  what  an  immense  peril  we  have  escaped,  I 
must  confess  that  I  dare  not  complain.  It  is  not  simply  an 
affectionate  anxiety  that  I  feel  when  he  exposes  himself  thus  : 
it  is  a  noble  and  righteous  wrath,  the  strongest  I  am  capable 
of  feeling.  It  is  a  wholly  false  notion  of  real  courage  which 
lures  him  on ;  and  I,  who  spend  my  days  in  pardoning  errone- 
ous ideas,  do  not  feel  the  slightest  toleration  for  this. 

Count  de  Maistre,  who  has  just  left  me,  brought  me  the 
news  of  the  death  of  the  younger  Prince  de  Broglie.1  My 
heart  bleeds  for  his  poor  mother,  who,  in  several  years,  has 
scarcely  recovered  from  the  loss  of  her  eldest  son.  What 
times  we  live  in !  "  Woe  to  the  fathers ! "  says  the  gospel. 
In  this  deplorable  age,  there  is  scarcely  an  individual  who  does 
not  tremble  or  suffer. 

The  poor  Princess  Alexis  has  been  in  a  state  of  terrible 
anxiety.  She  knew  that  the  regiment  of  Semenowsky,  where 
her  two  sons2  are,  had  been  engaged;  and,  having  received 
no  news  of  her  children,  she  has  feared  some  misfortune.  At 
present,  she  is  somewhat  re-assured,  and,  I  think,  with  reason. 
If  there  had  been  bad  news  for  her,  she  would  already  have 
received  it.  I  do  not  know  why  they  are  so  careless  about 
sending  the  lists  of  the  killed  and  wounded.  Suspense  is  crush- 
ing, and  the  incoherence  which  pervades  the  reports  is  itself  a 
species  of  torture. 

I  am  in  so  little  haste,  my  friend,  to  speak  of  Nadine,  that 

expired.  The  allied  armies  marched  from  Bohemia  into  Saxony  to  attack 
Dresden,  which  was,  at  that  crisis,  the  centre  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon's 
operations.  At  the  attack  on  Dresden,  on  the  26th  of  August,  1812,  a 
bullet  fractured  Moreaif  s  right  leg,  passed  across  his  horse,  and  carried 
away  a  portion  of  the  left.  Amputation  of  both  limbs  was  performed  upon 
the  spot.  He  died  during  the  night  of  the  first  or  second  of  September. 
His  body  was  embalmed  at  Prague,  and  then  carried  to  St  Petersburg, 
where  it  received  the  same  honors  as  had  been  awarded  to  Marshal  Kou- 
touzof. 

1  Francis  Ladislas  de  Broglie   Revel,  grandson  of  Marshal  Broglie. 
Born  in  1788.  he  was' but  a  year  old  when  he  left  Paris  with  his  parents. 
At  the  age  of  ten,  he  entered  the  First  Corps  of  Cadets  at  St.  Petersburg; 
•was  appointed  ensign  in  a  regiment  of  the  Imperial  Guard;  and  slain  in  the 
skirmish  at  Culm,  in  Bohemia,  29th  of  August,  1813. 

2  Princes  Paul  and  Peter  Galitzin. 


76  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

you  will  rightly  have  concluded  that  she  is  better.  The  reme- 
dies work  well ;  and  I  am  beginning  to  believe  that  youth  will 
triumph  over  a  malady  which  rends  my  heart  by  the  suffering 
it  entails,  apart  from  its  dangerous  nature.  As  soon  as  the 
frost  is  out  of  the  ground,  I  shall  take  her  into  the  country ; 
where,  I  do  not  yet  know.  Countess  Tolstoy  has  been  kind 
enough  to  write  to  her  husband  to  procure  me  a  suite  of  rooms 
at  Oranienbaum,  the  air  of  which  place  the  doctors  recommend 
for  Nadine  ;  but  I  do  not  know  whether  she  will  be  successful. 
Good-night,  dear  Roxandra.  I  am  going  to  bed ;  and  I  shall 
not  close  my  letter  till  to-morrow,  which  will  give  you  the 
trouble  of  deciphering  a  few  more  minute  pages. 


Tuesday,  9th. 

Less  of  choice  than  of  necessity,  I  find  myself  at  length 
relieved  of  my  august  presidency ;  and,  like  all  who  have  ever 
abdicated  sovereign  power,  I  had  my  regrets.  I  long  ago 
formed  the  determination  to  leave  in  the  spring ;  and  Nadine's 
illness  gave  me  the  courage  to  execute  it.  If  you  think  it 
necessary,  please  inform  Her  Majesty.  I  hardly  know  whether 
to  believe  those  who  tell  me  that  I  should  have  asked  for  her 
commands  before  she  left ;  but  I  must  say,  that,  when  there  is 
a  question  of  making  advances,  I  feel  them  to  be  inconsistent 
with  my  character,  and  all  the  sophistry  in  the  world  comes  at 
once  to  the  aid  of  my  shyness. 

I  am  truly  glad  that  your  relations  with  the  Empress  are 
satisfactory  ;  but  you  know  very  well  that  I  am  not  influenced 
by  motives  of  vanity,  even  where  those  I  love  are  concerned. 
It  has  seemed  to  me  that  you  behaved  like  a  person  whose  feel- 
ings have  been  hurt ;  and  wounded  sensibility  is  so  often  mis- 
taken in  this  world  for  offended  vanity,  that  I  could  not  bear 
to  have  the  slightest  suspicion  of  pettiness  attach  to  you.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  there  is  nothing  more  flattering  than  a 
naked  truth,  boldly  uttered ;  but,  all  the  same,  those  who  can 
bear  it  are  the  rare  exceptions  in  human  nature. 

The  last  news  from  the  army,  announcing  the  victory  won 
by  our  dear  Emperor  himself,  has  re-animated  our  spirits, 
strangely  depressed  by  perpetual  alternations  of  hope  and  fear. 
God  grant  that  all  these  efforts  and  this  devotion  may  be 
crowned  by  a  period  of  dear-bought  repose!  The  word 
"  glory  "  no  longer  affects  me.  The  string  it  once  caused  to 
vibrate  in  my  soul  would  seem  to  be  broken ;  and  I  would 
gladly  beg,  for  the  world  as  for  myself,  a  little  tranquillity,  if 


LIFE    OP  MADAME    SWETCHINE.  77 

ever  so  tame.  The  death  of  M.  de  Saint  Priest1  moved  me 
deeply ;  and  that  of  Count  Strogonof  was  keenly  felt.  His 
mother  encounters  this  affliction  with  a  courage  and  resignation 
which  some  people  are  unjust  enough  to  attribute  to  insensi- 
bility. They  seem  to  forget,  that  every  thing,  even  the  pride 
with  which  she  is  so  bitterly  reproached,  conspires  to  increase 
the  poignancy  of  her  regret.  Countess  Strogonof  bears  the 
blow  meekly,  suffering  with  sweetness  and  submission.  This  is 
enough  to  excite  doubts  as  to  the  character  of  her  very  just 
and  natural  affection  in  the  minds  of  those  who  are  ever  on  the 
watch  for  something  to  relieve  them  of  the  responsibility  of 
compassion  and  respect.  Ah,  my  friend,  how  dull  and  illogical 
are  narrow  minds  !  They  judge  only  by  appearances  ;  or,  it 
may  be,  more  guilty  still,  they  refuse  to  believe  the  evidence 
of  their  senses,  that  they  may  wrong  others  at  their  ease. 

We  are  soon  to  lose  M.  Tchitchagof,2  and  I  am  very  sorry 
for  it.  He  has  great  faults,  he  has  not  the  greatest  virtues  :  but 
he  has  a  fine  mind  and  a  strong  character ;  and  these  suffice  to 
make  him  a  lovable  being.  We  are  great  friends  ;  and,  though 
one  can  never  answer  for  these  gentlemen,  I,  at  least,  am  sure 
that  I  shall  always  be  a  friend  to  him.  He  is  as  inconsolable 
as  ever ;  and  I  need  sorrow,  as  well  as  something  better,  to 
enable  me  to  love  him.  The  Emperor  has  just  granted  him 
permission  to  go  to  England,  and  I  am  glad  that  he  was  not 
thwarted  in  this  project ;  for  I  am  certain  that  a  residence 


1  Count  de  Saint  Priest,  brother  of  General  Viscount  de  Saint  Priest, 
Duke  of  Almazan,  was  killed  March  17,  1814,  before  Keims,  in  a  fight 
with  Marshal  Mannont's  army  corps. 

2  Admiral  Paul  Tchitchagof  was  a  son  of  Admiral  Basil  Tchitchagof, 
who  left  a  name  illustrious  and  revered  in  the  Russian  fleet,  which  he 
repeatedly  led  to  victory.     His  son  Paul  —  himself  a  distinguished  man 
—  was  educated   in  England,  which   country  was  ever  afterwards  the 
object  of  his  avowed  preference.     He  married  Miss  Elizabeth  Proby,  the 
daughter  of  an  English  admiral.     The  loss  of  his  wife,  to  whom  he  was 
passionately  attached,   plunged    him   in   inconsolable   melancholy.     He 
lived  in  retirement  thenceforward,  and  soon  fixed  his  residence  in  Eng- 
land.   He  died  at  Paris,  in  September,  1849,  aged  eighty-two.     He  had 
been,  for  some  years,  agent  of  the  Russian  marine,  and  bequeathed  to 
this  agency  those  of  his  papers  and  notes  of  travel  which  seemed  likely 
to  be  of  use  to  Russia.     Among  these  papers  were  found  a  number  of  let- 
ters from  Count  de  Maistre,  which  have  recently  been  published  at  Paris, 
thanks  to  Baron  Korf,  director  of  the  imperial  library. 


78  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

there  will  eventually  make  the  place  distasteful  to  him.  Lord 
Walpole  remarked,  in  speaking  of  him,  "He  is  restless;"  and 
this  disquietude  will  yet  restore  him  to  the  native  land,  by 
•whose  prejudices  he  is  alienated. 

Apropos  of  Lord  Walpole,  I  think  that  you  have  judged 
him  very  severely.  If  you  had  looked  closer,  you  would  have 
seen  that  his  is  not  a  spirit  of  contradiction ;  and  his  conversa- 
tion, on  many  subjects,  is  interesting  and  suggestive.  I  see 
him  often :  he  inundates  me  with  English  books  ;  and  I  should 
be  at  a  loss  to  determine  to  what  extent  these  books  influence 
iny  opinion  of  him.  It  is  always  understood,  at  St.  Petersburg, 
that  one's  days  are  to  be  spent  without  pleasure  or  profit.  It 
is  positive  plunder ;  and  I  regret  what  I  save  more  than  what  I 
lose.  I  have  such  need  of  leisure  !  The  confusion  of  the  life 
I  have  been  leading  renders  me  almost  a  stranger  to  that  inner 
self  which  never  expands  to  fulness  of  life  save  when  I  can  give 
myself  up  unrestrainedly  to  the  impulses  of  affection,  to  nature, 
and  to  that  world  of  mind  which  sometimes  makes  us  forget  the 
other.  I  have  so  much  of  the  past  in  my  heart,  that  to  live 
with  old  regrets  and  the  new  emotions  which  they  awaken  is  as 
necessary  to  me  as  the  hope  of  happiness  to  the  young  souls 
that  believe  in  it.  God  has  been  very  good  to  me  in  relieving 
my  anxiety  about  Nadine  ;  but,  if  I  were  denied  the  outpour- 
ings of  perfect  confidence,  my  whole  life  would  be  disenchanted. 
I  feel  sometimes  so  keen  a  need  of  confession,  that  I  would  go 
to  the  world's  end  to  open  my  heart ;  and  often  I  have  started 
involuntarily  from  my  chair,  as  if  it  depended  upon  me  to 
hasten  my  deliverance  from  the  weight  that  oppressed  me. 

The  Countess is  always  the  same.  Ages  loaded  with 

experience  might  pass  over  her  head  without  her  eternal  youth 
getting  older  by  a  day. 

Now  for  your  admirer,  Sayger,1  who  pretends  that  with 
you  went  all  the  happiness  he  ever  enjoyed  in  Russia.  He 
sends  you  his  kindest  regards.  The  departure  of  the  grand- 
dukes  has  not  deprived  him  of  his  fees ;  but  I  fancy  that  he  is 
somewhat  harassed  in  money  matters,  beside  his  domestic 
troubles.  He  was  very  sad  the  last  time  I  saw  him.  I  be- 
lieve him  to  be  somewhat  wrong-headed,  and  strongly  suspect 
that  he  makes  no  struggle  against  afflictive  circumstances. 
Did  I  tell  you  that  the  two  lessons  which  Sayger  gave  me  did 
not  answer?  I  have  engaged  another  German  master,  who 
comes  every  day,  and  under  whose  tuition  I  make  rapid  pro- 
gress. If  you  hear  any  thing  from  Count  de  Lagarde,  please 

1  Professor  of  German  in  the  imperial  family. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  79 

• 

let  me  know :  I  have  had  no  intelligence  since  he  crossed  to 
Frankfort,  and  I  miss  it.  'Tis  a  good  sign,  that  nothing  is  said 
of  him.  Military  men  are  in  the  same  category  as  women, — 
they  are  most  fortunate  when  they  are  not  talked  about.  I 
send  you  a  letter  from  Count  de  Maistre.  He  had  one  from 
his  son  yesterday,  which  was  perfectly  satisfactory. 

If  you  are  having  it  cold  at  the  South,  we  are  almost  warm 
here  in  the  North.  The  river  has  broken  up,  to  my  great  de- 
light ;  and  the  three  windows  of  my  study  present  to  view 
three  beautiful  Vernets,  whose  genuineness  no  one  will  deny. 

I  have  read  Mine,  de  StaeTs  "  Germany,"  and  find,  as  in  all 
her  other  books,  some  admirable  pages  and  some  hasty  judg- 
ments. My  professors  of  German  literature,  Ouvarof  and 
Tourguenief,  do  not  find  her  account,  in  all  respects,  accurate. 
Please  give  me  your  opinion  on  this  matter.  If  you  could 
send  me  a  book  on  magnetism  and  its  effects,  not  too  volumin- 
ous, but  which  would  give  me  a  fair  idea  of  the  subject,  you 
would  do  me  a  great  favor ;  for  I  like  nothing  better  than  to 
be  interested  in  all  that  interests  you,  from  alpha  to  omega. 
Adieu,  my  dear  friend. 

Last  Friday,  the  Princess  Alexis  and  I  passed  the  evening 
with  Count  de  Maistre,  who,  under  the  pressure  of  the  duties 
imposed  by  hospitality,  did  not  allow  himself  a  moment's  sleep. 
He  came  off  conqueror  in  the  terrible  struggle  ;  but  who  knows 
what  it  cotit  him  P 

Universal  benevolence  has  been  the  romance  of  the  second 
period  of  my  life.  When  one  renounces  the  hope  of  living 
uninterruptedly  in  a  single  soul,  it  takes  the  whole  race  to  fill 
the  place  of  that  one.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  make 
up  in  number  what  we  lack  in  quality. 

The  better  I  come  to  know  you,  the  greater  need  I  have  of 
your  constant  presence.  If  I  live  ten  years  longer,  and  con- 
tinue to  advance  in  the  same  direction,  I  shall  finally  arrive  at 
the  point  of  lunacy,  —  I  shall  believe  that  I  am  your  shadow. 

Apropos  of  books,  I  send  you  some  volumes  to-day,  at  the 
request  of  Count  de  Maistre.  He  has  just  returned  a  pamphlet 
which  I  lent  him,  entitled  "  A  View  of  French  Literature  in 
the  Eighteenth  Century ; "  and  returned  it  enriched  by  very 
interesting  marginal  notes  of  his  own.  The  book  is  excellent ; 
and  his  observations,  though  a  little  severe,  are  remarkable  for 
their  tact  and  acuteness.  Count  de  Maistre  is  like  a  hunts- 
man's dog :  he  scents,  at  a  prodigious  distance,  all  which  has  a 
direct  or  indirect  bearing  on  the  ideas  of  his  age.  He  tolerates 
no  deviation  from  fundamental  principles.  If  this  obliquity 
manifests  itself  in  ever  so  slight  a  degree,  neither  eloquence 
nor  elevation  of  thought  or  sentiment  will  atone  for  it. 


80  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Your  character  reminds  me  of  those  happy  turns  of  ex- 
pression for  which  great  writers  are  remarkable.  The  admira- 
tion which  these  combinations  excite  springs  from  the  fact,  that 
genius  has  the  art  of  uniting  words  which  were  never  meant  to 
go  together.  Ah,  well !  your  character  is  a  collection  of  op- 
posites  which  would  naturally  be  thought  incompatible,  but 
which  constitutes  your  greatest  charm.  You  say,  perhaps, 
that  this  charm  is  of  my  lending.  Something  must,  of  course, 
be  attributed  to  motives  of  retaliation ;  but  please  remember 
that  we  only  lend  to  the  rich. 

Do  you  share  with  me  the  thought  most  calculated  to  alle- 
viate tlie  dread  of  death?  Do  you  believe  in  the  eternal  re- 
union of  souls  which  have  comprehended  one  another  here 
below?  It  seems  to  me  to  be  the  heart's  own  doctrine.  Re- 
ligion leaves  us  entire  latitude  in  this  respect ;  and  the  universal 
assent,  or,  rather,  presentiment  (the  strongest  of  proofs  in  a 
matter  of  feeling),  seems  to  me  a  warrant  of  its  truth.  I  know 
that  a  pious  soul  may  anticipate  the  delight  of  re-union  with  the 
Supreme  Being ;  but  would  heaven  be  quite  heaven  to  us,  if  we 
could  not  unite  to  the  sublime  thought  of  our  future  destination 
some  sensible  ideas  ?  Where  would  be  that  personality  with- 
out which  they  say  that  immortality  would  be  but  a  vain  gift, 
if  memory  had  vanished,  and  the  ego  ceased  to  exist?  and  if 
that  ego  tinds  itself  again,  what  region,  what  degree  of  felicity, 
could  obliterate  the  memory  of  that  which  was  once  identified 
with  it?  No  one  will  ever  make  me  believe  that  the  soul  of  my 
father,  when  I  meet  it,  will  be  no  more  to  me  than  that  of  the 
Chinaman  in  whose  company  I  may  make  the  last  journey.  I 
know  well  that  we  must  take  care  not  to  judge  heavenly  by 
earthly  things  ;  but  are  not  these  a  shadow  or  an  echo  of  those  ? 
and  what  is  a  shadow  or  an  echo  but  a  picture  or  a  voice,  fee- 
ble, indeed,  and  indistinct,  but  ever  faithful  to  the  original  ? 
Ah  !  if  this  soothing  theory  were  supported  by  the  most  positive 
proofs,  the  aspect  of  Death  walking  with  lifted  hand  ready 
to  smite  those  we  love,  or  snatch  us  away  from  those  who  love 
us,  would  still  be  "  awful,"  as  the  English  say  so  expressively. 

Dear  Roxandra,  one  ought  to  bless  Providence,  when,  like 
you,  one  has  much  to  lose ;  still  more,  when  one  has,  like  you, 
a  thousand  chances  of  repairing  loss.  I  know,  by  instinct,  the 
happiness  which  you  will  enjoy ;  and  I  desire  it  for  you  with  all 
the  united  strength  of  your  heart  and  mine.  I  see  the  outlines 
of  your  destiny.  You  will  be  a  wife  and  mother;  and  in  the 
centre  of  these  blessed  affections  you  will  pass  peaceful  days, 
whose  very  reflection  will  brighten  those  of  your  friends. 

What  poignant  regrets  must  fill  the  soul  of  the  poor  Em- 
press, who  has  had  the  cup  of  ielicity  put  to  her  lips  only  to 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  81 

be  made  more  sensible  of  the  bitterness  of  having  it  with- 
drawn ! l  I  can  well  understand  the  impulsive  feeling,  that  you 
would  give  your  life  to  restore  to  her  the  possession  of  what 
she  regrets.  My  God  !  if  one  did  but  dare  !  if  one  might  some- 
times be  as  good  as  one's  heart !  If  a  little  power  over  nature 
had  only  been  accorded  to  those  whose  sensibility  removes 
them,  lifts  them,  so  to  speak,  above  themselves  !  But  how  long 
would  be  the  list  of  our  desires  !  Things  seem  arranged  upon 
a  plan  which  the  germ  of  evil  in  the  human  heart  explains  only 
too  clearly,  but  which  one  would  fain  see  suspended  at  the 
word  of  such  as  would  interrupt  the  course  of  general  laws  for 
the  sake  of  others  only.  Then  we  should  see  angels  upon 
earth  protecting  other  angels,  and  the  world  would  be  the 
better  for  it.  What  do  you  say  to  this  arrangement? 

I  find,  in  all  the  distractions  which  would  divert  us  from  our 
sadness,  the  contrast  which  pained  you  on  returning  from  your 
walk.  All  that  is  discordant,  or  directly  opposed  to  our  feel- 
ing, irritates  and  wounds  us.  If  grief  is  to  be  mitigated,  it 
must  either  wear  itself  out  or  be  shared.  It  is  the  idle,  the 
importunate,  and  the  tiresome,  —  and  their  name  is  legion, — 
who  have  invented  that  multitude  of  ceremonies,  formulas,  and 
trite  observances,  with  which  it  is  customary  to  surround  the 
afflicted,  who  thus  have  added  to  their  original  trial  that  of  an 
enforced  publicity  of  grief.  'My  recipe  would  be  this:  Per- 
fect solitude,  which  would  allow  of  utter  abandonment  to  one's 
feelings ;  or,  better  still,  the  mingling  one's  grief  with  that 
of  another  in  such  a  way  that  the  souls  as  well  as  the  sorrows 
would  coalesce.  I  should  say  that  these  were  distractions  which 
might  attain  the  desired  end,  because  they  would  not  attempt 
it  prematurelyy .  .  . 

Those  romances  which  present  a  faithful  and  artless  picture 
of  the  human  heart  and  its  mysteries  seem  to  me  to  be  history 
par  excellence.  Names  void  of  interest,  barren  facts,  dates 
which  we  know  to  be  useless,  —  these  are  what  should  be  called 
romance,  if  we  mean  by  the  word  a  wearisome  motley,  which 
adds  nothing  to  our  experience,  and  has  no  tendency  to  ame- 
liorate our  condition.  That  plan  of  collecting  and  preserving 
your  reminiscences  is  charming.  Do  not  abandon  it,  dear 
lloxandra, — you  who  forget  nothing,  and  are  never  forgotten. 

I  am  truly  glad  that  you  have  discovered  the  sterling  qualities 
of  Mile.  Walouef.2  She  needs  to  control  her  first  impulses 
somewhat :  she  will  be  reasonable  in  the  end ;  but  it  is  oilen  a 

1  The  Empress  had  lost  two  infant  children,  and  was  childless. 

2  Superintendent  of  the  Maids  of  Honor. 

6 


82  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

long  time  first ;  and  this  is  a  more  serious  disadvantage  to  her- 
self than  to  any  one  else.  She  is  satisfied  with  you,  and  will 
one  day  appreciate  you  fully.  The  atmosphere  of  Tzarskoe 
Selo  is  that  which  suits  her  nature  best.  There  she  is  diverted 
and  amused ;  and,  although  yoii  may  not  know  it,  'tis  none 
the  less  true,  that 'our  sufferings  have  much  to  do  with  our 
faults.1 .  .  . 

You  are  right  in  thinking  that  we  must  be  generous  in  order 
to  be  just.  If  a  painter  would  produce  a  perfect  representation 
of  nature,  he  is  obliged  to  embellish  her.  Since  he  cannot 
impart  to  canvas  the  velvet  softness  of  the  skin,  the  freshness 
of  coloring,  and  the  grace  of  nature,  he  must  supply  their  lack 
by  another  species  of  perfection ;  and  it  is  only  by  giving  too 
much  in  some  directions,  that  he  succeeds  in  giving  enough. 
Morally  speaking,  we  are  painters  of  those  on  whom  we  pass 
judgment ;  and,  having  no  exact  measure  of  the  good  qualities 
which  we  perceive,  let  us  at  least  palliate  the  defects.  Here, 
perhaps,  lies  the  sole  secret  of  producing  mental  likenesses 
which  shall  be  perfect  as  a  whole,  and,  better  still,  agree- 
able. .  .  . 

I  am  harder  to  cure  than  the  King  of  England.1  How  great, 
then,  must  be  your  skill,  if  you  are  successful !  Ah  !  you  are 
right,  —  I  am  very  weak  in  action  ;  and,  what  is  more,  it  is  an 
organized,  systematic  weakness,  which  manifests  itself  in  a 
multitude  of  ways.  If  I  lose  this  fault,  shall  I  have  one  virtue 
left?  Judge  for  yourself,  my  dearest  friend.  If  I  had  ever 
dared  ask  for  aught,  should  I  not,  with  my  native  impetuosity, 
ever  ready  to  carry  me  beyond  bounds,  have  become  exacting 
in  all  my  relations  ?  If  I  had  not  made  haste  to  shroud  my 
life  in  a  sombre  veil,  could  I  have  borne  the  thought  of  death? 
If  I  dared  indulge  hope  in  any  matter,  would  it  not  weary  my 
soul  too  much?  I  am  like  the  globe,  according  to  Bullion's 
theory  of  its  formation :  detached,  like  that,  from  a  burning 
sun,  I  have  been  cooling  for  many  years.  I  am  not  quite  arctic 
in  temperature ;  but,  without  the  comfort  you  have  afforded  me, 
I  should  have  been  so  ere  this.  At  all  events,  I  should  have 
given  one  leap  over  the  temperate  zone  ;  for  there  I  have  never 
been  able  to  abide.  To  remain  on  the  hither  side  of  it  is  much 
easier  for  me.  For  instance  :  if  1  had  had  an  immoderate 
dread  of  the  abuse  of  speech,  I  could  have  become  a  Trappist 
with  perfect  ease  ;  and  absolute  silence  would  have  cost  me  less 
than  retrenching  twenty  words  each  day.  Every  thing  in  me 
which  savors  of  exaggeration  in  the  practice  of  things  praise- 

1  George  III.,  who  was  partially  insane. 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    STVETCHINE.  83 

worthy  in  themselves  is  but  disguised  weakness.  'Tis  this 
alone  which  I  fear ;  'tis  this  alone  which  gives  me  the  resigned 
and  indifferent  spirit  with  which  you  are  pleased  to  credit  me. 
You  tell  me  of  the  future  and  of  new  cares,  as  I  have  often 
told  myself;  but  it  is  time  for  the  rule  of  Reason  (who  is  no 
goddess)  to  begin.  /We  are  no  longer  required  actually  to 
shun  ourselves ;  but  we  must  dare  look  ourselves  fully  in  the 
face,  and  cease  to  call  on  phantoms  to  vanquish  realities.  I 
assure  you  that  this  is  my  last  word,  and  that  I  shall  now  pro- 
ceed to  establish  a  mixed  government  over  myself.  I  shall 
assign  to  my  several  powers  the  part  suited  to  each  one.  I 
shall  permit  no  encroachments ;  and  out  of  this  arrangement, 
perhaps,  will  spring  the  equilibrium  which  has  so  long  been  a 
desideratum  here.  If  you  were  but  at  the  helm,  my  friend, 
the  bark  would  soon  arrive  at  a  good  port.  What  a  medley  ! 
What  an  exalted  idea  I  must  have  of  your  indulgence  to  try  it 
like  this !  While  I  write,  the  horrors  of  moving  are  going  on 
around  me.  Nadine  is  very  busy  and  important :  she  has  at 
least  six  copy-books  to  put  in  order ;  and,  as  you  may  imagine, 
she  has  had  to  consult  me  on  the  subject  a  hundred  times.  .  .  . 

It  is  splendid  weather.  The  air  is  pure  ;  the  sun  warm,  but 
not  oppressive.  There  are  trees  ;  there  is  verdure  ;  there  are 
walks,  and  people  who  enjoy  them  :  better  still,  there  are  those 
who  do  not  enjoy  them  alone.  How  happy  are  such !  If  we 
have  superfluities,  we  can  dispense  with  necessaries.  I  am 
interrupted.  Adieu,  dear  friend.  Perhaps  you  are  writing  to 
me  at  this  very  moment :  the  thought  makes  it  harder  than 
usual  to  leave  you.  .  .  . 

When  you  say,  "  Have  you  experienced  this  ?  "  or,  "  Do  you 
understand  that?  "you  maybe  sure  that  I  can  truthfully  an- 
swer "Yes."  I  have  felt  and  reflected  much,  and  in  the 
matter  of  human  afl'ection  and  passion  have  traversed  an  im- 
mense circle,  and  penetrated  to  the  very  antipodes.  I  have 
taken  a  doctor's  degree  in  this  law,  and  am  not  at  all  mystified 
by  things  which  are  inexplicable  to  those  who  have  lived  only 
in  externals.  Experience  has  not  even  taught  them  to  spell, 
and  how  should  they  understand  reading?  It  is  in  the  pre- 
cinct of  my  own  heart  that  I  have  learned  to  comprehend  the 
hearts  of  others ;  and  a  knowledge  of  my  single  self  has  given 
me  a  key  to  those  innumerable  riddles  which  we  call  men. 
The  idea  that  every  individual  is  a  microcosm  has  always 
approved  itself  to  me.  1  have  sometimes  dreaded  to  have 
sleep  come,  and  interrupt  the  delicious  reverie  in  which  I  lay 
quiescent  between  memory  and  hope ;  but  oftener  I  have 
shut  my  eyes,  as  children  do,  that  I  might  not  see  the  phan- 
toms of  the  night,  and  sought  to  persuade  myself  that  I  slept, 


84  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHUTE. 

so  as  not  to  be  too  sensible  that  my  heart  was  awake  and  suf- 
fering. In  truth,  my  friend,  if  I  did  not  believe  that  the  habit- 
ual unrest  which  I  experience,  and  which  interferes  so  sadly 
with  my  serenity  of  mind,  were  due  to  my  health,  it  would 
seriously  disturb  my  gratitude  to  my  Maker.  I  have  sorrows, 
—  who  has  them  not?  but,  if  life  had  always  smiled  on  me, 
if  every  thing  had  been  propitious,  could  I  have  deserved, 
have  kept,  have  guarded,  niy  happiness?  should  I  not  have 
been  utterly  devoured  by  that  restlessness  which  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  minds  of  a  certain  order?  I  have  deserved 
the  greater  part  of  the  griefs  I  have  known  ;  yet  God  softens 
them,  as  if  they  had  been  only  tests,  not  punishments.  I 
meet  with  kindness ;  I  inspire  it :  my  need  of  esteem  is  satis- 
fied. I  have  known  the  most  illustrious  of  my  kind.  My 
craving  for  love  is  also  filled.  My  heart  has  been  so  fortunate 
in  the  matter  of  friendship !  Why,  then,  should  I  not  finish 
with  courage  a  career  whose  close  is  already  in  view  ?  I  assure 
you,  my  friend,  that,  when  my  prostration  is  not  physical,  it 
resembles  a  calm  and  sweet  tranquillity.  .  .  . 

To  produce  any  thing  valuable,  I  need  to  be  absorbed ;  and,  ' 
when  I  work  only  by  fits  and  starts,  I  experience  fatigue  with- 
out pleasure.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest  inconveniences  of  the 
life  which  I  lead,  to  such  a  character  as  mine,  that  I  must 
parcel  out  my  day,  and  leave  empty  spaces  in  it.  Melanchely 
effects  so  easy  an  entrance  into  these  breaches ;  and  then  it 
cannot  be  dislodged.  When  shall  I  be  able  to  spend  a  long 
morning  with  you,  reading  from  some  good  and  pleasant  book 
by  my  own  fireside  ?  .  .  . 

The  example  of  Mme.  de  S.  ought  to  disgust  me  with  self- 
love.  Has  she  not  always  lived  for  herself?  and  yet  how  has 
her  happiness  ever  been  at  the  mercy  of  troubles,  trifling  in 
their  causes,  but  poignant  in  their  effects !  What  has  she 
gained  by  making  herself  the  centre  of  her  life  ?  It  reminds 
me  of  that  English  verse :  — 

"  To  each  his  sufferings.     All  are  men 

Condemned  alike  to  groan : 

The  tender,  for  another's  pain ; 

The  unfeeling,  for  his  own." 

Judging  by  the  sad  impression  which  misfortune  makes,  it 
would  seem  to  be  new  to  us  every  time  we  encounter  it.  Have 
you  reflected  upon  this  strange  but  incontestable  fact,  that 
the  thought  of  death  is  terrible  in  an  arid  existence,  when  no 
love  or  compassion  can  come  to  sweeten  its  bitterness,  while 
it  is  almost  pleasant  at  the  two  moral  extremes  .of  life,  —  su- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCIIIXE.  85 

preme  sorrow  and  supreme  joy  ?  In  the  first  instance,  it  is  a 
change,  and  seems  like  a  deliverance.  In  the  other,  there  is 
a  feeling  that  there  is  nothing  beyond  but  God :  that  a  genu- 
ine affection  is  a  preparation  for  eternity ;  and  that  eternity 
comes,  not  to  interrupt,  but  to  perpetuate,  all  which  makes 
life  dear.  To  whom  do  I  say  this  ?  'Tis  time  that  wears  on 
tender,  loving  hearts.  Eternity  is  their  asylum.  .  .  . 

My  sister  and  I  go  Saturday  to  Peterhof  to  see  the  house 
which  I  am  to  occupy.  Count  de  Maistre  tells  me  that  lie  is 
sorry  to  have  me  go :  and  I  can  believe  it ;  for  I,  too,  shall  be 
extremely  sorry  to  see  him  less  often.  I  spent  yesterday  even- 
ing with  him :  we  sat  till  two  o'clock.  He  was  sad ;  and,  to 
divert  him,  I  conversed  on  his  favorite  subjects,  which  I  do  not 
understand  in  the  least.  We  went  from  Greek  to  Hebrew  by 
a  way  that  I  knew  not.  Finally,  the  conversation  flagging,  I 
quarrelled  with  him  ;  and  then  he  revived.  This  is  my  method 
of  entertaining  my  friends.  Count  de  Maistre  will  write  you ; 
and  I  have  undertaken  to  forward  his  letter.  That  cold  face 
of  his  conceals  a  profoundly  sensitive  soul.  I  do  not  wish  to 
boast ;  but  he  has  sometimes  said  things  to  me  that  were  very 
sweet  to  hear.  I  leave  you  to  guess  which  of  these  sayings  I 
have  prized  the  highest,  and  shall  be  able  to  repeat  most  accu- 
rately after  the  Japse  of  two  or  three  months.  Now  rack  your 
brains.  Have  you  done  it?  No:  you  are  wrong.  Then 
speak  to  your  heart,  and  speak  of  mine.  It  is  enough :  you 
have  guessed. 


Friday,  two  o'clock,  P.M. 

My  letter  will  go  this  evening ;  and  I  wish  to  add  one  word. 
The  court  lackey  who  brought  me  yours  so  promptly  told  me 
that  I  might  send  mine  in  the  same  way  ;  and  this  gives  me  all 
the  facilities  I  could  desire.  You  will  not  show  this  letter? 
It  is  not  out  of  vanity  that  I  ask  it,  but  that  I  may  feel  at  ease, 
and  always  dare  to  be  myself.  If  it  is  impossible  that  I  can  be 
wrong  in  relying  so  utterly  on  your  comprehension,  it  is 
equally  so  that  the  confidence  which  I  repose  in  you  should 
extend  to  those  about  you.  As  to  your  own  letters,  nothing 
could  be  more  superfluous  than  to  request  me  to  keep  them 
private.  My  native  egotism,  so  prompt  to  see  profanation  in 
the  touch  of  indifferent  persons,  is  sufficient  to  put  me  on  my 
guard.  Mine.  S.  is  kind  enough  to  say,  that,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  I  am  like  the  bee.  If  I  were  one,  I  should  assuredly 
prevent  the  flies  from  approaching  the  flowers  whence  1  made 


86  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

my  honey,  whatever  good  or  bad  reasons  they  might  allege  for 
so  doing.  .  .  . 

My  health  is  not  very  bad ;  and,  in  view  of  the  equal  di- 
vision it  makes  of  my  time,  I  am  tempted  to  apply  to  it  the 
parable  of  the  seven  fat  kine  and  the  seven  lean  kine.  I  have 
my  good  days,  when  activity  reigns,  and  then  others  in  which  I 
neither  sow  nor  reap  ;  and  the  latter,  my  friend,  in  a  thought- 
ful existence,  are  very  dull.  Nevertheless,  I  do  not  complain 
of  this,  nor  of  any  thing  else.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  grasp 
God's  intentions  concerning  me.  I  feel  that  I  am  under  his 
influence,  and  treading  the  path  which  his  pity  has  marked  out 
for  me.  Is  not  such  a  mood  of  mind  in  itself  one  of  the  great- 
est of  blessings  ?  You  are  right  to  desire  nothing  but  what 
God  wills.  / 1  am  keenly  sensible  of  our  utter  ignorance  about 
what  is  best  for  us.  f  I  have  seen  so  many  more  bitter  tears  shed 
over  fulfilled  than  over  disappointed  hopes,  that,  if  I  were  in- 
vested with  supreme  power  over  my  own  destiny,  I  should  beg 
to  be  relieved  of  it  without  delay.  It  is  good  to  depend  upon 
the  Being  who  made  all  things ;  and,  if  aught  could  render 
the  human  creature  more  miserable  than  he  now  is,  it  would  be 
one  more  degree  of  freedom.  )  These  are  old  thoughts  of 
mine,  dear  friend.  Their  germ  was  within  me  in  days  when 
the  air  was  still  fragrant ;  when  surrounding  objects  were  re- 
splendent with  beauty  and  freshness ;  and  when,  though  my 
heart  had  her  sorrows,  the  consciousness  of  existence  was  still  a 
constant  exhilaration.  .  .  . 

In  the  country  where  you  are  sojourning,  when  they  see  a 
superior  person  who  dares  to  be  herself,  and  remain  natural 
and  quiet  where  others  are  affected,  instead  of  conceding  the 
superiority  which  such  a  line  of  conduct  suggests,  they  attribute 
it  to  the  perfection  of  art.  This  is  perfectly  explicable.  There 
are  ears  on  which  the  word  merit  grates,  but  which  the  word 
address  does  not  alarm.  One  point  upon  which  I  feel  perfectly 
easy  is  the  Empress's  judgment  of  you.  She  is  too  clever  not 
to  appreciate  a  character  like  yours,  and  has  every  thing  to  gain 
by  intercourse  with  superior  minds.  There  is  nothing  so  advan- 
tageous as  the  observation  of  others  for  those  characters  which 
deserve  the  praise  so  hackneyed,  and  yet  so  high  when  just,  of 
improving  upon  acquaintance.  All  which  bears  the  impress 
of  unity  is  true ;  but,  in  whatever  is  factitious,  there  is  always 
a  tip  of  the  ear  sticking  out.  I  can  very  well  understand  why 
persons  of  exalted  rank  are  prone  to  hesitate  long  before  giv- 
ing the  slightest  confidence.  They  feel  that  a  genuine  friend- 
ship would  be  very  sweet ;  but,  all  the  same,  they  know  that 
they  compromise  more  than  others,  if  they  make  any  but  an 
excellent  choice.  .  .  . 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  87 

M.  de  Maistre  has  given  me  an  abstract  of  the  advice  with 
which  he  has  favored  you  (it  is  droll,  —  is  it  not?  —  that  we 
should  take  it  upon  ourselves  to  advise  you,  who  might  well  lead 
us  both)  ;  and  I  have  smiled  more  than  once  at  his  grand  theo- 
ries, which  could  not  possibly  be  reduced  to  practice.  There 
is  surely  some  method  (which  is  never  applied)  of  sparing  the 

Eride  of  man ;  but,  as  regards  the  vanity  of  woman,  none  such 
as  ever  been  discovered.  I  believe  the  simplest  way  is  to 
make  up  one's  mind  to  sacrifice  it ;  to  advance  slowly,  and 
repeat  one's  self  often,  and  thus  to  gain  strength.  Do  right, 
whatever  betides.  Moreover,  we  must  not  attach  to  trifles  an 
importance  which  they  do  not  possess.  Good  as  well  as  evil 
is  transitory ;  vanishes,  and  leaves  no  trace.  People  caress 
you,  and  then  sulk  at  you,  or  overwhelm  you  with  demonstra- 
tions of  interest,  after  loading  you  with  proofs  of  dislike.  We 
are  all  of  us,  in  this  world,  more  or  less  like  St.  January,  whom 
the  inhabitants  of  Naples  worship  one  day,  and  pelt  with  baked 
apples  the  next.  The  saint,  who  is  very  good-natured,  per- 
forms the  same  number  of  miracles  each  year.  Let  us  imitate 
him ;  and  let  the  miracle  wrought  on  ourselves  be  the  attain- 
ment of  patience  and  balance  of  character,  so  diih'cult  of  pres- 
ervation in  the  midst  of  so  many  vicissitudes. 

Count  de  Maistre  has  gone  on  a  pilgrimage  to  visit  the 
hermit  Tchitchagof,  who  is  very  comfortable  at  his  Oranien- 
baum.  The  grief  of  this  man  interests  me.  It  is  of  more  ser- 
vice to  him  than  he  suspects.  He  is  hot-headed,  and  needs 
some  fixed  point  on  which  to  concentrate  his  ideas.  If,  in  his 
position,  he  had  been  given  over  to  ambition,  and  left  at  the 
mercy  of  all  its  attendant  annoyances,  he  would  have  suf- 
fered thereby :  he  would,  I  think,  have  had  no  power  of 
resistance.  But  now  he  offsets  against  these  influences  a  sorrow 
which  enlarges  and  ennobles  the  man  ;  and,  at  least,  all  the 
original  force  and  dignity  of  his  character  is  preserved.  .  .  . 

I  believe  that  our  rulers  are  to  be  pitied  for  the  strait  to 
which  they  are  reduced ;  but,  I  must  say,  I  should  not  under- 
stand them,  if  they  could  help  despising  inwardly  the  example 
just  set  by  M.  de .  Thus  to  change,  at  a  critical  mo- 
ment, from  one  party  to  the  other ;  and  to  carry  one's  betrayal 
so  fiir  as  to  deliver  over  to  the  enemy  all  the  important  bills 
and  papers  which  one  has  in  possession,  —  fie,  what  meanness  ! 
This  man  would  have  saved  Russia  only  to  blow  his  brains  out 
afterwards,  if  I  should  suspect  his  intentions !  Our  good 
Emperor  is  too  noble  to  give  his  confidence  to  such;  and,  if  I 
did  not  think  so,  I  could  not  be  easy.  If  any  one  should  hear 
me  say  this,  I  know  very  well  that  my  opinion  would  be  anathe- 
matized ;  it  would  be  an  unpardonable  sin :  but,  unless  all 


88  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

one's  ideas  of  justice  and  honesty  are  to  be  reversed,  I  do  not 
see  how  any  other  is  to  be  entertained.1  .  .  . 

You  are  closing  your  blinds  to  keep  out  the  sun ;  and  we, 
my  friend,  would  fain  multiply  and  make  warmer  the  few  scat- 
tered rays  he  sheds  on  us.  Our  spring  exists  nowhere  but  in 
the  calendar;  and,  if  the  river  had  not  broken  up,  it  would 
require  the  faith  which  we  exercise  in  all  mysteries  to  prevent 
us  from  despairing  of  it.  In  the  North,  one  imagines  a  new 
beatitude,  —  "  Blessed  are  the  warm  !  "  I  cannot  possibly  tell 
you  how  sorely  I  need  a  different  climate,  and  another  kind  of 
life  than  that  which  I  now  lead.  I  should  need,  for  my  regene- 
ration, a  benignant  atmosphere ;  and,  for  the  complete  re- 
animation  of  ray  broken  spirits,  the  combined  blessings  of  a 
fine  climate,  poetic  scenery,  much  leisure,  and  more  friendship. 
But  this  is  just  what  I  only  find  in  samples  which  make  me 
long  for  the  whole  piece.  I  am  attached  by  a  thousand  ties  to 
my  native  land :  but  these  would  not  break,  even  if  they  were 
loosened  for  a  lew  years  ;  and  the  re-establishment  of  my  moral 
force  would  make  me  fitter  to  enjoy  them.  We  find  as  many 
rare  and  lovable  persons  at  St.  Petersburg  as  elsewhere,  — 
perhaps  more ;  and  I  shall  not  light  my  lantern,  like  Diogenes, 
to  seek  them  out,  I  have  known  so  many  in  my  day.  But  that 
precaution  would  be  very  useful,  if  it  could  assist  me  in  shun- 
ning the  crowd  of  commonplace  individuals  whom  we  meet  on 
our  journey,  whose  mediocrity,  versatility,  and,  too  often,  their 
malice,  are  not  atoned  for  by  an  instant's  pleasure  in  their  soci- 
ety. What  you  tell  me  of  your  circle  would  make  me  long  for 
it,  even  if  you  were  not  there ;  and,  were  I  to  follow  you,  dear 
friend,  I  should  claim  a  little  interest  in  your  name  from  those 
whose  friendship  you  have  already  won.  It  is  so  pleasant  to 
be  in  your  debt !  .  .  . 

I  do  not  prefer  others  to  myself,  but  it  is  others  only  that  I 
really  love ;  and  it  is  in  them  that  all  my  selfishness  centres, 
and  all  my  comfort,  unless  I  am  living  bound  up  in  self.  I  have 
never  felt  that  any  person  owed  me  any  thing  (you  understand 


1  This  impulse  of  manly  honor  should  have  its  place  in  a  memoir  of 

Mme.  Swetchine;  but  the  reader  ought  to  be  made  aware  that  Gen. 

and  his  friends  have  recently  published  a  justification,  which  may  be  found 
at  length  in  the  "Vie  Militaire  du  GeW'ral  Comte  Friant;  par  le  Comte 
Friant,  son  fils."  This  justification  rests  principally  upon  the  watchful 

jealousy  of  Berthier,  who  saw,  in  the  Baron  de ,  the  sole  rival  whom 

he  had  to  fear,  and  upon  the  nationality  of  the  Baron ,  who  was  a 

Swiss,  and  not  a  Frenchman,  by  birth. 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHIXIC.  89 

the  latitude  with  which  I  use  the  expression)  ;  yet  I  have  always 
thought  I  should  be  quite  miserable,  unless  I  owed  all  to  others. 
This  may  render  the  character  strange  and  eccentric  ;  but  it  is 
easy  and  sale,  and  will  not  repel  even  the  ungrateful.  .  .  . 

The  rumors  to  which  Count  de  Maistre  alluded  have  come 
to  my  hearing  ;  but  I  know,  better  than  any  one  else,  how  active 
is  malevolence,  and  how  cheap  falsehood.  I  have  been  afraid 
they  would  reach  you,  and  such  things  always  give  pain.  .  .  . 

Your  letters  will  be  sent  to-morrow  morning.  I  enclose  one 
from  Count  de  Maistre,  who  replies  to  your  intention  of  writ- 
ing him.  .  .  . 

I  am  expecting  my  husband  daily.  I  long  for  his  return, 
and  the  end  of  his  nomad  life.  It  is  a  good  while  now  that 
we  have  been  like  M.  Sun  and  Mine.  Moon,  who  are  never 
seen  together.  Speaking  of  my  husband  reminds  me  that  it 
was  St.  Alexander's  Day  when  the  news  of  the  victories  reached 
Moscow.  The  cathedral  had  been  consecrated  that  very  day : 
there  was  an  illumination  in  the  evening,  transparencies  and  a 
prodigious  crowd  in  the  streets.  Conceive  the  contrast  between 
this  fete  and  those  ruins  !  But  it  is  perfectly  natural.  Are  not 
all  our  merrymakings  over  tombs  ?  and  what  is  the  earth, 
half  a  fathom  below  its  surface,  but  a  mass  of  formless  remains  ? 
Forget !  so  says  Providence,  in  its  kindness,  touched  by  the 
misery  of  man.  .  .  . 

Count  de  Lagarde  writes  me  from  Vienna.  He  says  that 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  Austrians  for  the  Russians  is  at  its  height. 
Every  thing,  even  to  the  dinner-plates,  is  &  la  Cossack.  They 
report  a  brilliant  victory,  won  by  the  Prince  Royal.1  It  will 
remind  you  of  that  verse  of  La  Harpe,  — 

"  Tombe1  de  chute  en  chute  au  trone  acade'tnique."2 

My  constant  fear  is,  that,  from  one  defeat  to  another,  the  mon- 
ster will  go  on  to  greater  glory  than  ever.  .  .  . 

I  have  just  discovered  a  new  pleasure,  which  I  am  exhaust- 
Ing.  It  is  that  of  dying  of  fear.  I  read  Macbeth  every  evening 
alone  in  a  dimly  lighted  room.  I  fancy  I  hear  the  owl's  hoot 
of  terror,  the  incantations  of  the  conspirators,  the  hasty  step 
of  the  assassins,  the  broken  moans  of  the  dying.  I  see  the 
daggers  drawn  in  the  darkness,  the  shadows  coining  and  going : 
and,  when  terror  has  fairly  got  possession  of  me,  and  I  begin 
to  shudder,  and  cast  doubtful  and  horrified  glances  about,  I  say 


1  The  Prince  Royal  of  Sweden,  Bernadotte. 

2  Plunging,  from  one  depth  to  another,  down  to  an  academic  throne. 


90  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

to  myself,  the  representation  is  perfect ;  and  I  go  to  bed  with 
my  imagination  lull  of  absurd  fancies.  .  .  . 

When  I  was  in  the  country,  the  day  the  gnats  came,  I  was 
mortally  impatient  with  them ;  but,  after  a  while,  I  let  them 
sing  and  sting,  and  even  get  into  my  eyes  and  ears,  if  I  was  not 
paying  attention.  They  were  as  intolerable  as  ever,  but  I  had 
become  accustomed  to  them ;  and  I  have  had  very  much  the 
same  experience  with  incorrigibly  sulky  people.  If  I  were  to 
recount  to  you  the  remedies  I  have  employed  to  soothe  the 
irritable  susceptibility  of  Mile.  Walouef,  the  list  would  exhaust 
even  your  patience.  Nothing  would  do  ;  and  finally  I  decided 
to  do  nothing.  It  troubled  me,  because  it  is  always  painful  to 
witness  suffering,  and  because,  moreover,  one  must  always 
have  some  reason  to  fear  that  one  has  not  acted  quite  for  the 
best ;  but  after  seeing  all  the  ground  lost  which  I  thought  I  had 
gained,  and  spending  my  breath  for  naught,  and  often  preju- 
dicing my  own  interests  instead  of  advancing  them,  I  learned  to 
fold  my  arms,  and  make  some  approach  to  quietism.  It  is  the 
system  I  should  always  adopt  for  this  sort  of  emergency,  if  my 
naughty  nerves  did  not  occasionally  interfere  with  my  philo- 
sophic practice.  Trust  me,  all  you  can  do  in  these  cases  is  to 
be  passive  and  calm.  Let  the  fickle  people  always  know  where 
to  find  us :  it  seems  to  me  that  this  is  all  the  concession  we 
can  make  to  them.  When  you  told  me  that  all  was  going  well 
between  you,  I  believed  it  for  a  moment ;  and  then,  like  old 
men  loaded  with  years  and  experience,  I  smiled  at  your  illusion, 
without  caring  to  destroy  it.  These  annoyances  make  no  seri- 
ous difference  to  you,  who  are  goodness  and  delicacy  itself;  nor 
to  me,  who  recognize  in  her  the  good  qualities  which  atone  for 
disagreeable  faults :  but  I  cannot  think  without  regret  what 
an  immense  price  she  sets  on  the  favor  of  the  Empress,  and 
how  unlikely  she  is  to  attain  and  preserve  it.  The  least  she 
can  expect  is  the  ridicule  and  mortification  which  must  await 
the  failure  of  her  ends.  .  .  . 

C.  de  Maistre  passed  a  part  of  the  morning  with  me,  and 
left  a  thousand  tender  remembrances  for  you.  "Tender"  is 
the  word,  and,  in  fact,  the  most  moderate  one  I  could  employ ; 
for,  if  his  feeling  for  you  were  analyzed,  God  knows  what 
heterogeneous  elements  it  would  be  found  to  contain  !  Good- 
by,  my  friend.  Forgive  me  for  having  written  like  a  cat,  and 
chattered  like  a  magpie. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCIIIXE.  91 


CHAPTER  V. 

Connection  between  Mile.  Stourdza  and  Mme.  de  Kriidener.  —  Corres- 
pondence between  Mme.  Swetchine  and  Mile.  Stourdza  continued. 

THE  character  of  the  Emperor  Alexander  —  flexible, 
mobile,  and  prone  to  emotion  —  passed  through  the 
same  phases  as  his  empire,  underwent  re-actions,  and  pre- 
served some  trace  of  every  crisis.  His  heart  was  divided 
between  the  seductions  of  youth  and  the  teaching  of  events. 
Seldom  now  did  sovereign  power  appear  to  him  clothed 
with  the  inviolable  charm  of  its  prerogatives,  but  under 
the  severe,  and  at  times  forbidding,  aspect  of  its  responsi- 
bilities. The  love  of  his  subjects  remained  steadfast ;  but, 
again  and  again,  their  stupidity,  their  dull  faces,  their  mel- 
ancholy glances,  called  on  him  to  give  an  account  of  the 
use  he  had  made,  or  was  intending  to  make,  of  so  much 
confidence  and  devotion.  Often  his  aids-de-camp  had  seen 
him  turn  aside,  and  traverse  alone  and  with  hasty  strides 
the  alleys  of  Tzarskoe  Selo,  or  fling  himself  into  his  car- 
riage, and  burst  into  tears.  But,  at  last,  to  the  lurid 
glare  of  the  burning  of  Moscow  succeeded  the  brilliant 
gleam  of  the  day  of  Leipsic.  Napoleon,  vanquished  by 
all  Europe,  seemed  to  owe  his  defeat  immediately  to  the 
Russian  arms.  Alexander  was  once  more  exposed  to 
the  allurements  of  fortune,  of  glory,  and  of  pleasure.  The 
gravity  of  recent  catastrophes  cast  a  shade  over  his  entree 
into  Paris ;  but  he  was  unanimously  hailed  as  a  generous 
arbiter  and  a  wise  ruler. 


92  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

But  as  soon  as  Napoleon  had  been  naively  confined  in 
the  island  of  Elba,  and  monarchy  restored  in  France  in  the 
midst  of  spontaneous  and  sincere  enthusiasm,  Alexander 
started  northward  Vienna  detained  him.  He  lingered 
there  for  a  long  time,  quite  as  much  to  enjoy  the  congratu- 
lations and  the  rejoicings  of  Europe,  which  believed  itself 
delivered,  as  to  preside  over  the  doings  of  a  congress 
whose  duties  had  ceased  to  be  of  an  urgent  or  alarming 
nature. 

A  few  obscure  and  melancholy  minds  were  still  under 
the  influence  of  fear.  Among  these,  there  was  a  woman 
unknown  in  the  political  world,  and  only  half  revealed  to 
the  world  of  letters  by  a  romance  strewn  with  ingenious 
thoughts. 

Julia  Wittinghof  came  of  a  family  which  had  counted 
two  masters  of  the  Teutonic  Order  in  the  fourteenth  and 
fifteenth  centuries,  and  was  the  grand-daughter  of  Marshal 
Munich.  She  was  born  at  Riga,  in  1764;  and  married,  at 
the  age  of  twenty,  Baron  Krudener,  then  Russian  Am- 
bassador to  Venice,  but  soon  separated  from  her  husband, 
and  made  her  way  alone  to  France,  Switzerland,  and  Ger- 
many, where  she  abandoned  herself  to  the  guidance  of  an 
excited  imagination.  Chance  led  her  to  the  Grand  Duchy 
of  Baden  at  the  time  when  the  Empress  Elizabeth,  still 
separated  from  Alexander,  was  awaiting  under  the  roof 
of  her  brother,  the  Grand-duke,  the  return  of  the  con- 
queror of  Napoleon. 

Mme.  de  Kriidener,  then  in  her  fiftieth  year,  was,  for 
the  time  being,  devoting  herself  entirely  to  religious  preach- 
ing. Some  Protestant  ministers  from  Geneva  and  Baden 
were  her  companions,  alternately  inspiring,  and  inspired 
by  her.  She  was  a  kind  of  Mme.  Guyon,  for  whom 
Fenelon  and  submission  to  Catholic  authority  were  re- 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  93 

placed  by  a  few  adventurous  apostles  without  traditions  or 
precise  aim,  who  were  first  instigated,  and  afterwards 
swayed,  by  the  philosophe  inconnu,  St.  Martin.  Mme.  de 
Kriidener  began  her  relations  with  royalty  by  a  passing 
intimacy  with  Queen  Louise  of  Prussia.  She  then  trav- 
ersed Germany,  at  one  time  resuming,  to  some  extent, 
the ' habits  of  the  world;  at  another,  sojourning  with  the 
Moravinn  brotherhood ;  and  then  again  lending  an  ear  to 
the  illumine,  Jung  Stilling,1  and  preaching  with  him  to  the 
poor  dwellers  in  the  lonely  valleys  of  the  Danube  and  the 
Rhine.  With  no  more  originality  of  doctrine  than  any  of 
the  sectaries  of  Germany,  England,  or  the  United  States, 
she  yet  created  an  impression  by  means  of  her  sex,  her 
birth,  her  brilliant  success  upon  another  stage,  and  her  lan- 
guage, which,  though  it  never  bore  the  stamp  of  simplicity, 
yet  breathed,  at  times,  the  romantic  charm  of  Valerie. 
At  the  little  court  of  Baden,  Mme.  de  Kriidener  found 
herself  the  descendant  of  one  of  the  most  illustrious  ser- 
vants of  the  empire,  and  the  widow  of  a  Russian  ambas- 
sador ;  and,  by  virtue  of  these  titles,  she  easily  attained  to 
familiarity  with  the  Empress.  From  time  to  time,  her 
glance  rested  on  the  young  favorite  who  accompanied 
her ;  and,  either  from  sincere  sympathy  or  calculation, 
Mme.  Kriidener  made  Mile.  Stourdza  the  confidant  of  the 
thoughts  which  were  agitating  her  soul,  and  which  all 
gravitated  towards  the  Emperor  Alexander. 

After  the  pacification  of  France,  the  allied  sovereigns 
quitted  Paris  for  Vienna,  whither  their  principal  ministers 

*  Jung  Stilling  had  been  a  noted  oculist,  but  had  become  one  of  those 
German  theosophists  who  testilied  so  much  interest  in  the  late  of  the 
masses.  He  was  established  at  Baden  as  a  mum  be r  of  the  Aulic  Council 
by  the  Grand-duke  Frederic;  and  Mine,  de  Kriidener  made  his  house  her 
head-quarter*  on  her  arrival  at  Carlsruhe. 


94  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

followed  them,  and  soon  formed  themselves  into  a  congress. 
The  Empress  Elizabeth  finally  left  Carlsruhe  to  rejoin  her 
husband.  Mme.  de  Kriidener  remained  at  Baden,  but 
kept  up  her  intimacy  with  Mile.  Stourdza.  In  her  letters, 
the  Emperor  Alexander  is  called  the  "  White  Angel,"  and 
the  Emperor  Napoleon  the  "  Black  Angel ;  "  and  she  con- 
stantly reproaches  the  statesmen  of  the  time  with  -the 
frivolity  of  their  pleasures  and  the  rashness  of  their  policy. 
This  austere  tone,  contrasting  strangely  with  that  of  the 
world  in  which  Mile.  Stourdza  then  lived,  easily  created 
a  revulsion  of  feeling,  and  so  wrought  upon  the  pure  and 
high-minded,  that  they,  somewhat  uncritically,  confounded 
declamation  with  eloquence. 

Mile.  Stourdza  did  not  conceal  this  correspondence  from 
the  Empress,  who,  ever  desirous  of  recalling  her  husband 
to  more  serious  thoughts,  took  care,  in  her  turn,  to  mention 
it  to  him.  Thus  encouraged,  Mme.  de  Kriidener  re- 
doubled her  calls  to  the  Christian  life,  and  even  ventured 
upon  prophecy.  On  the  27th  of  October,  1814,  she  wrote 
from  Strasburg:  — 

"  No :  the  poisoned  cup  quaffed  by  the  multitude  will  not 
tempt  you.  I  speak  strongly,  but  I  live  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross.  The  events  of  life  are  hastening.  The  visions  of  time, 
the  voice  of  the  apostles,  the  miracles  which  God  lavishes  on  the 
unworthy  creature  who  addresses  you,  —  all  these  excite  my 
conscience,  and  I  must  speak  strongly.  The  time  for  hesitation 
is  past.  Let  the  giddy  masses  amuse  themselves.  They  have 
but  this  melancholy  pleasure. 

•'  The  angel  who  marked  with  saving  blood  the  doors  of  the 
elect  is  passing ;  but  the  world  sees  him  not.  He  is  numbering 
the  people.  The  judgment  approaches:  it  is  ready,  and  there 
is  a  volcano  beneath  our  feet !  We  shall  see  guilty  France, 
which,  by  the  decrees  of  the  Eternal,  was  to  be  saved  by  the 
cross  which  had  subdued  her,  —  we  shajl  see  her  chastised.  .  .  . 

"  These  lilies  which  God  had  preserved  ;  this  emblem  of  a 
pure  and  fragile  flower  which  broke  an  iron  sceptre,  because 
he  willed  it  so ;  these  lilies,  which  should  have  been  symboli- 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWKTCII1NE.  95 

cal  of  purity,  piety,  and  repentance, — have  come  and  gone. 
The  lesson  has  been  given  ;  and  men,  more  obdurate  than  ever, 
dream  but  of  tumult.  Alas  for  these  men  of  the  torrent! 
They  are  in  dry  deserts :  they  are  Hung  out,  by  their  passions, 
upon  a  stormy  ocean,  where  they  see  the  shipwreck  of  others 
without  even  wishing  to  escape  their  own.  Can  men  dance, 
and  array  themselves  in  rich  draperies,1  when  dark  enmities 
rend  tlie  human  race?  What!  will  you  never  learn  to  tremble 
at  these  audacious  festivities,  which  spring  from  the  mourning 
of  nations,  and  plunge  them  in  it  again  H  " 

To  these  words,  which  referred  to  Europe  in  general, 
Mine,  de  Kriidener  adds,  some  more  precise  remarks  con- 
cerning her  mission  to  the  Emperor  Alexander:  — 

"  To  love,  with  me,  is  to  conform  to  sacred  things.  .  .  .  You 
would  fain  tell  me  of  the  depth,  the  power,  and  the  beauty  of 
the  Emperor's  character.  1  believe  that  I  already  know  him 
well.  I  knew,  long  since,  that  the  Lord  would  grant  me  the 
joy  of  seeing  him.  I  have  great  things  to  say  to  him,  for  I 
have  experienced  much  on  his  behalf.  The  Lord  alone  can 
prepare  his  heart  to  receive  my  words.2 

"  There  is  an  old  sinner  at  Vienna,  to  whom  I  am  strongly 
attached,  —  the  Prince  de  Ligne.  There  are  such  everywhere. 
He  used  to  call  me  the  Gray  Sister  of  the  heart ;  and  we  once 
loved  one  another.  His  natural  disposition  is  excellent.  I  am 
so  dead  to  the  world,  that  he  would  fear  me  now  as  one  fears 
the  departed.  But  I  should  care  neither  for  his  fears  nor  his 
smiles,  if  I  might  but  see  him  come  to  the  life  which  saves  from 
eternal  death.  He  used  to  have  moments  when  his  conscience 
was  awake.  He  wanted  me  to  become  a  Catholic,  and  I 
wanted  him  to  become  a  Christian." 

At  the  very  moment  when  this  letter  was  read  at  Vienna 
by  the  Emperor  Alexander,  its  effect  was  heightened  by 

1  One  of  the  most  fashionable  amusements  at  Vienna  during  the  con- 
gress was  Tabledux-vivans. 

2  All  these  details  are  taken  from  the  "  Life  of  Mme.  de  Kriidener," 
by  M.  Ch.  Kynard,  who  has  drawn  the  materials  for  his  very  interesting 
work  from  authentic  sources.     M.  Capefigue  is  wrong  in  assigning  an 
earlier  date  to  the  connection  between  Mme.  de  Kriidener  and  the  Em- 
peror Alexander. 


96  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

the  sudden  death  of  the  Prince  de  Ligne,  under  circum- 
stances calculated  to  impress  the  imagination  of  the  Czar. 
As  the  time  of  the  startling  escape  from  Elba  ap- 
proached, Mme.  de  Kriidener  grew  more  precise  and 
urgent  in  her  warnings.  On  the  14th  of  February,  1814, 
she  once  more  wrote  to  Mile.  Stourdza,  still  dwelling  on 
the  Emperor  Alexander :  — 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  I  am  persuaded  that  I  have  things  of  im- 
mense importance  to  say  to  him ;  and,  though  the  Prince  of 
Darkness  do  his  best  to  prevent  it,  and  to  separate  him  from 
those  who  might  speak  of  sacred  things,  the  Eternal  will  be 
too  strong  for  him." 

"  At  the  very  moment,"  says  her  biographer,  "  when 
Mme.  de  Kriidener  was  writing  thus  to  Mile.  Stourdza, 
she  was  commanded  by  a  revelation  to  repair  to  a  mill 
near  Schluchtern,  in  the  Electorate  of  Hesse,  and  there 
await  the  fore-ordained  meeting."  And  there  she  was 
met,  though  not  surprised,  by  the  news  of  the  landing  at 
Cannes,  and  the  entry  of  Napoleon  into  Paris,  on  the 
20th  of  March,  1815. 

The  Emperor  Alexander,  on  his  part,  left  Vienna,  and 
hastened  to  his  head-quarters,  a  prey  to  the  sharpest  anx- 
iety, overwhelmed  with  remorse  for  his  want  of  foresight. 
He  had  refused  to  appear  at  the  splendid  reception  pre- 
pared by  the  Bavarians,  and  was  with  difficulty  persuaded 
to  accept  the  hospitality  of  his  uncle,  the  King  of  Wur- 
temberg.  At  nightfall,  he  retired  to  his  apartment. 

"  I  drew  breath  at  last,"  he  wrote  with  his  own  hand  to 
Mile.  Stourdza,  who  had  stayed  behind  with  the  Empress, 
"and  my  first  impulse  was  to  take  a  book  which  I  always  carry 
with  me  ;  but  my  intellect  was  obscured  by  sombre  clouds,  and 
failed  to  take  in  the  sense  of  what  I  read.  My  ideas  were  con- 
fused, and  my  heart  oppressed.  I  dropped  the  book,  and 
thought  what  a  consolation  it  would  be  to  me  at  that  moment 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  97 

to  converse  with  some  pious  friend.  This  thought  reminded 
me  of  you.  I  remembered,  also,  what  you  had  told  me  of 
Mine,  de  Kriidener,  and  the  desire  I  had  already  expressed  to 
you  of  making  her  acquaintance.  '  Where  is  she  now,  and 
how  am  I  ever  to  meet  her?'  I  had  barely  expressed  this 
thought,  when  there  came  a  knocking  at  my  door.  It  was 
Prince  Wolkouski,  who,  with  an  air  of  great  irritation,  de- 
clared that  he  was  exceedingly  sorry  to  disturb  me  at  that 
.unseasonable  hour,  but  that  it  was  his  only  way  of  getting  rid 
of  a  woman  who  was  determined  to  see  me.  At  the  same  time 
he  named  Mme.  de  Kriidener.  You  may  imagine  my  astonish- 
ment. It  seemed  as  if  I  were  dreaming.  '  Mme.  de  Kriid- 
ener ! '  I  cried,  '  Mme.  de  Kriidener ! '  This  sudden  response 
to  my  thought  could  not  be  accidental.  I  admitted  her  in- 
stantly ;  and,  as  if  she  had  read  my  soul,  she  spoke  to  me 
strengthening  and  consoling  words,  which  calmed  the  trouble 
which  had  oppressed  me  so  long." 

This  timely  apparition  was  followed  by  an  interview 
which  lasted  no  less  than  three  hours.  At  intervals, 
Alexander  wept  profusely,  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands.  Mme.  de  Kriidener  would  then  pause,  and  beg 
pardon  for  the  strength  of  her  language. 

"  Go  on,  go  on,"  said  the  Emperor :  "  your  words  are 
music  to  my  soul."  And  when,  on  taking  leave,  she  made 
a  last  apology,  the  Emperor  said,  "  Give  yourself  no  un- 
easiness. All  you  have  said  recommends  itself  to  my 
heart.  You  have  given  me  a  new  view  of  myself:  I 
thank  you  for  it ;  but  I  need  such  interviews  often.  I  beg 
you  not  to  go  away." 

From  that  day  forward,  the  Emperor  looked  on  Mme. 
de  Kriidener  as  a  beneficent  genius,  from  whom  be  could 
not  be  parted,  and  whose  inspirations  deserved  respectful 
attention.  She  followed  him  to  Paris,  and  the  influence 
which  she  exerted  there  is  historical.  The  origin  of  the 
connection  only  belongs  to  our  subject ;  and  this  glimpse 
was  necessary  to  a  full  appreciation  of  the  correspondence 
which  ensued  between  Mme.  Swetchine,  in  Russia,  and  her 

7 


98  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

friend,  whose  lot  was  cast  amid  the  most  dramatic  compli- 
cations of  the  epoch. 

In  what  concerns  Mme.  de  Kriidener,  we  shall  recognize 
the  plan  of  advice  which  Mine.  Swetchine  always  adopted. 
More  alarmed  than  dazzled  by  the  allurements  of  the  Py- 
thoness, disturbed  by  the  enthusiasm  of  her  friend,  but 
ever  modest  in  the  expression  of  her  own  opinion,  we' 
shall  see  her  avoiding  proper  names,  sifting  and  com- 
bating with  discretion  the  ideas  which  she  resists,  but 
boldly  bringing  forward  those  which  commend  themselves 
to  her  judgment. 

On  looking  back,  we  find  correspondence  of  Mme. 
Swetchine's  extending  from  the  first  Restoration  to  the 
second,  and  embracing  these  events  between  the  spring  of 
1814  to  the  close  of  1815,  which  we  have  summarily  re- 
viewed. 

I  share  to  the  full  your  admiration  of  our  dear  Emperor. 
How  blessed  a  thing  it  is  to  be  able  to  praise  sincerely !  No 
one  knows  what  it  is  worth,  who  has  not  been  overtaken  by 
the  vicissitudes  of  life ;  and  it  may  be,  that  happiness  is  even 
more  needed  than  suffering  to  temper  the  soul,  and  rouse  its 
energies.  This  memorable  epoch  will,  I  doubt  not,  exercise 
a  marked  influence  over  the  Emperor.  He  is  already  raised 
above  other  men  by  the  glory  he  has  won.  The  influence  of 
religion  will  lift  him  above  himself.  His  will  was  always  good, 
and  now  he  will  dare  all  he  has  dreamed.  Let  us  hope  that  it 
is  the  dawn  of  a  better  day  for  Russia.  Ah,  if  his  heart,  now 
that  it  has  received  a  serious  impression,  could  also  be  warmed 
toward  her  who  has  suffered  so  long,  and  with  so  noble  and 
resigned  a  patience  !  Has  not  the  day  of  usurpations  gone  by  ? 
Do  we  not  see  vice  everywhere  yielding?  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  deeply  I  am  pained  by  that  suspension  of  correspondence 
of  which  you  tell  me.  What !  can  he  not  allow  her  to  taste,  in 
its  fulness  and  purity,  the  joy  even  of  these  happy  events  ?  .  .  . 

My  husband  sighed  over  the  word  in  your  letter  about  the 

Countess  .  His  regrets,  which  are  slightly  materialistic, 

are  principally  for  the  loss  of  her  beauty,  whose  remembered 
image  he  still  dotes  upon.  He  values  it  so  highly,  that  I  be- 
lieve he  would  avoid  seeing  her  for  fear  of  losing  the  irnpres- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  99 

sion.  It  is  very  seldom  that  I  see  in  the  guiltiest  woman  any 
thing  but  an  unfortunate  victim ;  but  I  must  say,  that  inde- 
cency, in  addition  to  weakness,  dries  up  my  charity  at  its  source. 
What  is  to  be  hoped  from  one  who  dares  defy  all  that  is  re- 
spectable? .  .  . 

We  have  a  more  backward  spring  than  any  which  I  re- 
member. Enormous  masses  of  ice  float  down  the  Neva ;  and 
one  would  say,  that,  for  eight  days  past,  the  whole  North  had 
•been  breaking  up.  My  friend,  when  body  and  mind  are  ill,  a 
temperate  climate  is  very  desirable.  To  feel  disheartened  in 
the  midst  of  an  ice-bound  landscape  is  to  feel  death  within  and 
without  one.  .  .  . 

The  assurance  that  you  were  happy  would  console  me  for 
much  care  and  anxiety.  It  would  be  every  thing  to  me.  But 
—  poor  creatures  that  we  are  —  we  can  do  nothing  for  our- 
selves, and,  what  is  worse,  nothing  for  those  others  who  are  more 
to  us  than  ourselves.  We  are  flung  into  life  like  malefactors, 
bound  hand  and  foot ;  but  the  greater  our  impotence,  the  more 
our  movements  are  trammelled,  and  the  more  the  mainspring 
of  the  great  watch  acts  for  us.  It  is  when  we  are  motionless 
as  blocks  of  marble  in  the  hands  of  the  sculptor,  that  the  action 
of  the  Supreme  Workman  begins.  I  have  oiten  been  reproached 
with  what  people  call  my  familiarity  with  God ;  and  it  is  quite 
true,  that,  starting  from  the  principle  that  no  one  who  loves  is 
offended  by  confidence,  I  take  him  aside,  as  it  were,  and  tell 
him  of  my  sorrows,  my  joys,  and  my  wishes,  as  well  as  my 
regrets.  Prayer  is  for  me  a  tete-a-tete  par  excellence;  and  I 
pity  those  with  whom  it  is  nothing  but  a  monologue.  I  have 
sought  this  tete-a-tete  with  the  best  of  fathers.  Your  image, 
dear  Roxandra,  made  a  third  in  our  interview,  and  acted  as  a 
stimulus  to  my  garrulity.  .  .  . 

How  much  trust  and  consolation  for  you  and  for  myself 
have  I  not  gathered  there !  And  why  may  I  not  transmit  my 
experiences  to  you  ?  They  make  me  smile  a  smile  of  peace, 
and  give  me  new  life.  .  .  . 

While  I  write,  they  are  giving  a  serenade  under  our  win- 
dows, for  whose  benefit  I  know  not.  The  varying  harmonies 
of  voices,  fifes,  and  wind  instruments,  succeed  one  another 
alternately.  The  river  is  perfectly  still,  the  air  balmy ;  and, 
from  time  to  time,  I  rest  my  pen,  sink  back  in  my  fauteuil, 
and  indulge  in  a  momentary  dream.  In  an  interval  of  silence, 
the  clock  of  the  fortress  strikes  one,  and  seems  to  tell  me  that 
it  is  time  to  go  to  bed.  I  have  chosen  to  mi.sunderstand  it, 
you  see ;  for  I  am  writing  still.  My  letter,  however,  refust-s  to 
take  a  fresh  start.  If  I  sit  up,  you  are  no  longer  there  even 
for  a  pretext ;  and  I  speak  only  for  myself.  More  than  an 


100  LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

hour  ago,  Count  de  Maistre  ordered  me  to  bed  in  the  most 
peremptory  manner.  He  treats  me  like  Basil.  He  tells  me 
that  I  have  a  fever;  but  I  have  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  have 
only  a  bad  cold,  accompanied  by  cough  and  hoarseness.  .  .  . 

I  already  know  Mine,  de  Krudener,  Jung,  &c.,  as  well  as 
if  I  had  seen  them.  But  the  most  interesting  acquaintance  I 
have  made  through  you  is  that  of  M.  Pollier:1  first,  for  the 
reason  which  you  know,  because  he  strikes  a  sensitive  chord  in 
me ;  and  then  for  that  trait  of  devotion  to  his  young  pupil, 
which  has  raised  him  very  high  in  my  estimation.  1  am  suf- 
ficiently inclined  to  be  metaphysical,  and  even  mystical ;  but  a 
single  impulsive  deed  like  this  appears  to  me  far  to  outweigh 
all  the  sublime  conceptions  and  exalted  delights  of  the  third 
heaven.  .  .  . 

Among  the  thousand  items  which  escaped  my  memory  the 
other  day,  I  forgot  to  speak  of  the  book  which  you  lent  me. 
It  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  and  has  left  an  inefface- 
able impression.  It  is  truly  the  rationale  of  Christianity,  and 
seemed  made  on  purpose  for  me ;  for  it  answered  objections 
which  I  have  met  in  no  other  work,  but  which  have  often  had 
the  effect  of  unsettling  my  mind.  If  it  developed  no  other 
idea  save  that  the  Scriptures  are  not  revelation,  but  contain 
the  history  of  revelation,  this  idea,  ingenious,  just,  and  fruit- 
ful, would  have  been  enough,  in  my  opinion,  to  make  the 
fortune  of  the  book.  When  it  was  presented  to  me,  you 
would  have  laughed  to  see  me  spring  from  my  chair,  drop  my 
book,  and  clap  my  hands,  —  three  signs  which  denote  the 
highest  degree  of  admiration  of  which  I  am  capable.  Prayer 
never  fails  me ;  but  I  must  own  that  I  have  sometimes  been 
inclined  to  accuse  myself  of  impiety,  so  wearisome  do  I  find 
the  best  devotional  books.  I  yawn  at  the  first  page ;  and  it 
is  long  since  I  have  been  able  to  get  as  far  as  the  second. 
A  theologian  who  talks  of  religion  affects  me  less  than  a  man 
of  the  world  who  is  penetrated  by  its  spirit :  the  one  has  the 
\air  of  fulfilling  a  duty ;  the  other,  of  consulting  an  inclination. 
It  is  difficult  to  strike  the  balance  between  those  who  are  con- 
vinced and  those  who  are  persuaded.  I  know  very  well  that 
the  greatest  divines  have  been  both ;  but  even  so  their  ascetic 
and  peremptory  tone  is  against  them,  —  a  tone  which  the  gospel, 


1  M.  Pollier  was  tutor  to  the  young  Prince  Wasa ;  and,  when  the  crown 
was  finally  removed  from  the  ancient  house  of  Sweden,  and  given  to 
General  Bernadotte,  M.  Pollier  redoubled  his  devotion  to  the  despoiled 
prince. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  101 

as  Jennings l  well  says,  never  adopts.  I  have  already  made  one 
person  read  the  book,  who  has  been  greatly  pleased  with  it ; 
and  I  should  like  to  repeat  the  experience. 


February  22d. 

Ah,  my  friend !  do  not  you  begin  to  mourn  over  the  pitiful 
interests  of  this  life.  Can  you  not  rise  above  the  vicissitudes 
to  which  you  are  condemned  ?  It  is  God's  voice,  do  not  doubt 
it,  which  replies  to  yours.  It  is  not  for  the  dew-drenched  earth 
to  complain.  Only  the  parched  and  burning  desert  would 
have  a  kind  of  right  to  believe  itself  forsaken  by  the  powerful 
hand  whose  mere  withdrawal  is  a  punishment.  .  .  . 

What  you  tell  me  of  the  Emperor  pleases  me  very  much. 
At  last  he  is  having  justice  done  him  everywhere.  God  grant 
that  he  may  lead  to  a  successful  termination  the  noble  and 
generous  enterprise  whereof  events  bore  the  germ  which  he 
has  so  successfully  guarded  and  developed  !  There  is  no  use 
denying  it,  —  the  mass  of  men  are  just  only  when  they  are 
happy,  and  the  vulgar  will  sympathize  only  with  success. 
Have  you  taken  my  advice,  my  friend,  about  your  behavior  to 
the  Empress  ?  have  you  alluded  to  what  she  has  to  bear ;  and 
have  you  done  it  frankly,  earnestly,  and  affectionately,  as  you 
really  feel  ? 

When  I  am  with  you,  I  have  a  sense  of  calmness  and  depth. 
It  is  just  the  atmosphere  which  suits  me ;  and,  though  I  am 
not  mad  like  Saul,  there  is  something  in  your  voice,  I  know 
not  what,  which  recalls  the  effect  of  David's  harp.  Ah,  how 
soothing  is  the  thought  that  we  are  exciting  interest !  You  say, 
in  your  letter,  that  1  never  speak  of  my  own  experiences.  My 
friend,  always  till  now  I  have  made  it  a  matter  of  dignity, 
moderation,  and  reason,  to  avoid  dwelling  on  my  troubles ; 
but  do  you  think  I  care  for  all  that,  where  you  are  concerned  ? 
In  my  intercourse  with  you,  I  speak  or  am  silent,  receive  or 
give,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment ;  and,  if  I  say  nothing 
of  myself,  it  is  not  from  indifference  or  reserve,  but  because  I 
like  to  hear  you  a  hundred  times  better  than  to  speak.  .  .  . 

I  woke  early  from  a  sleep  worse  than  death.  At  the  age . 
of  nineteen,  I  threw  myself  into  the  arms  of  God,  with  a  pas- 1 
sionate  fervor  unexampled  in  my  experience.  For  several  | 
years,  my  religion  was  of  that  stamp ;  and,  if  you  will  believe 


1  Jennings,  born  in  England  in  1704,  is  the  author  of  a  treatise  on  the 
"  Evidences  of  the  Christian  Religion,"  published  in  1774,  aud  translated 
by  Feller. 


102  LIFE   OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

fit,  my  friend,  five  minutes  of  religious  exaltation  sufficed  to 
obtain  every  sacrifice,  and  give  direction  to  the  remainder  of 
my  life.  It  was  grace ;  and,  I  say  it  with  the  deepest  convic- 
tion, I  deserved  none.  Later,  Providence  took  away  my  milk 
and  leading-strings.  How  weak  I  felt  when  it  became  necessary 
for  me  to  walk  alone,  and  climb  instead  of  leaping !  .  .  . 

I  know  the  needs  of  a  character  like  yours ;  but  your 
imagination,  which  I  love  as  a  part  of  yourself,  might  have 
proved  a  snare,  if  you  had  been  led  astray  by  ordinary  seduc- 
tions. And  so  I  own,  that,  since  your  departure,  I  have  often 
been  fearful  —  sometimes  to  the  point  of  despondency  —  that  a 
specious  brilliancy,  and  the  very  success  you  were  achieving, 
would  induce  you  to  create  for  yourself  a  future  where  realities 
and  my  affection  would  hardly  find  access  to  you.  I  said  to 
myself,  "  If  the  hopes  and  pleasures  of  the  world,  its  vain  ambi- 
tions and  frivolous  pursuits,  ever  permanently  occupy  her  mind, 
I  shall  love  her  still ;  but  our  intimacy  will  not  be  the  same. 
The  perfect  analogy  which  unites  us  will  have  been  destroyed, 
and  the  hopes  formed  for  a  lifetime  will  have  been  but  the 
dream  of  a  day."  This  is  what  I  have  said  to  myself  a  thousand 
times,  with  an  inexpressible  pang  at  my  heart,  which  is  now 
converted  into  a  most  lively  joy.  The  tests  which  they  used  to 
apply  to  novices  were  child's  play  to  those  which  you  have 
passed  through.  Try  to  use  your  triumph  discreetly.  The 
moral  of  this  fable  is,  that  happiness  is  only  possible  among 
our  equals,  in  a  situation  where  one  is  exposed  neither  to  envy 
nor  to  indifference  ;  and  that  all  we  can  derive  from  the  best  of 
human  intercourse  is  a  firm  persuasion  that  God's  service  is  the 
only  source  of  repose  and  well-being  for  his  intelligent  crea- 
tures. I  hope,  that,  amid  all  you  have  seen,  you  have  gleaned 
some  ideas  that  may  be  realized  in  our  dear  native  land,  which, 
like  childhood,  contains  as  yet  only  germs  and  elements.  .  .  . 

My  health  is  more  miserable  than  ever,  and  is  only  kept  up 
by  ruinous  remedies.  My  superstitious  confidence  in  Leigthon 
has  yielded  a  little  to  reason ;  and  I  have  decided  to  consult 
Grigthon,  who  promises  me  some  palliatives,  but  persists  in 
saying,  that,  if  I  will  not  have  recourse  to  violent  measures,  it 
is  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  take  four  seasons  of  different 
waters.  The  advice  is  very  good,  —  so  good  that  I  had  admin- 
istered it  to  myself  in  advance.  The  only  trouble  is,  it  cannot 
be  followed.  I  should  have  to  make  up  my  mind  to  leave  my 
husband,  which  I  cannot  do.  He  urges  it  upon  me ;  but,  the 
kinder  he  is,  the  less  I  am  disposed  to  profit  by  his  kindness. 
If  illness  or  misfortune  should  overtake  him  in  my  absence, 
how  could  I  forgive  myself  ?  .  .  . 

The  report  has  been  circulated  here,  that  the  Empress  was 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  103 

going  to  Paris.  Nothing  but  the  announcement  of  your  imme- 
diate return  could  give  uie  greater  pleasure,  if  1  could  but  leel 
sure  of  it.1 


August  10th. 

I  have  just  come  back  into  my  little  solitude,  after  a  season 
of  forced  dissipation.  In  the  good  society  in  which  I  have 
been  moving,  retirement  is  as  artificial  as  enjoyment ;  and  I 
have  not  been  able  to  find  a  moment  in  which  to  add  to  my 
letter  a  word  for  your  good  brother.  Spite  of  my  neglect,  how- 
ever, he  would  be  doing  me  great  injustice  if  he  doubted  the 
strength  of  my  attachment.  The  place  I  have  just  quitted 
bears  off  the  palm  for  busy  idleness  and  monotonous  excite- 
ment. I  should  prefer  Thebais  to  passing  my  summers  so. 
There  are  several  of  the  individuals  from  whom  I  have  just 
parted,  who,  separately  and  singly,  would  have  been  pleasant 
company ;  but,  taken  collectively,  they  induce  a  sense  of  lassi- 
tude and  emptiness.  I  never  exactly  understood  Rousseau's 
wanting  to  be  separated  from  his  beloved,  that  he  might  have 
the  pleasure  of  writing  to  her ;  but  I  comprehend  perfectly,  that 
one  must  retire  from  the  world  occasionally,  if  one  would  not 
become  disgusted  with  it.  And  so  the  grand  wall  of  China 
between  one's  summer  and  winter  life  appears  to  me  as 
necessary  as  well  conceived.  One  compensation  for  the  trouble 
of  my  goings  and  comings  is  the  pleasure  I  experience  in 
being  re-united  to  my  sister  and  her  two  cherubs,  of  whom 
their  mother's  educational  tact  has  really  made  two  little  won- 
ders. I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  to  you,  that  I  cannot  con- 
ceive a  finer  character  than  my  sister's.  Every  day  strengthens 
the  good,  and  weakens  the  evil.  .  .  . 

It  seems  to  me  that  your  good  angel  is  very  busy  about  you, 
and  is  covering  your  thorns  with  some  few  flowers.  How  I 
should  like  to  be  charged  with  the  visible  execution  of  this 
charming  mission !  If  your  candor  and  good  faith  did  not 
re-assure  me,  I  should  perhaps  fear,  that,  unconsciously  to  your- 
self, all  that  you  have  heard  —  the  opinions  by  which  you  have 
been  surrounded,  and  whose  organs  were  calculated  to  captivate 
your  imagination,  as  well  as  your  heart  —  might  have  pro- 
duced some  lasting  effect  upon  you.  But  if  a  novel  impression 
could  have  given  a  false  direction  to  your  thoughts,  your  devia- 
tion would  have  been  less  serious  than  another's,  since  you 
have  in  your  excellent  brother,  whom  I  like  so  much,  a  true 
counsellor,  and  a  guide  equally  capable  of  reproving  and  sus- 

1  The  report  had  no  foundation.    The  Empress  never  went  to  Paris. 


104  LITE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

taining  you.  As  for  myself,  I  have  but  one  thing  to  say  in  this 
connection :  Distrust  that  cant  of  "  simplicity "  and  childlike 
docility,  which  the  system-makers  preach  so  authoritatively, 
while  they  fail  of  it  themselves  at  the  very  outset.  True  sim- 
plicity consists  in  following,  step  by  step,  the  gospel  teach- 
ing, without  involving  one's  self  in  those  introverted  specula- 
tions which  are  reserved  for  the  very  few,  in  weighing  our 
actions  by  the  shekel  of  the  sanctuary,  and  in  submitting 
humbly  to  life,  rather  than  in  soaring  vaingloriously  above 
it.  It  has  been  my  lot  to  see  many  an  Icarus  in  this  enter- 
prise. .  .  . 

How  grateful  we  ought  to  be,  and  especially  to  our  be- 
loved Emperor !  I  am  glad  that  I  always  dimly  foresaw  in  him 
what  has  been  so  gloriously  manifested  to-day.  Certainly,  he 
is  one  of  humanity's  heroes,  and  will  be  so  always  and  every- 
where. I  seem  to  see  all  my  dreams  of  moral  dignity  realized 
in  his  conduct,  and  discover,  at  last,  in  this  union  of  religious 
fervor  with  liberal  ideas,  the  long-sought  resemblance  to  my 
ideal  type  of  character,  —  a  type  which  might,  until  now,  have 
been  deemed  the  fantastic  creation  of  an  exalted  fancy.  Our 
adorable  Alexander  satisfies  my  demands,  and  gives  perma- 
nence to  my  ideas.  It  is  possible,  then,  for  a  king  upon  the 
throne,  surrounded  by  a  tumult  of  unchained  interests  and  pas- 
sions, to  be  a  man,  a  Christian,  a  philosopher;  to  pursue  the 
wisest  and  most  generous  of  plans,  and  to  throw  into  their 
execution  all  that  is  noble  in  human  nature,  from  the  loftiest 
equity  to  the  most  affecting  modesty.  And  this  wonderful 
young  sage  is  our  master !  My  friend,  if  the  Russians  always 
feel  his  worth  as  deeply  as  now,  they  will  be  only  too  happy. 
The  fall  of  Napoleon  is  such  as  we  should  have  expected  from 
divine  justice.  If  he  had  died  on  the  field  of  honor,  it  would 
have  been  a  noble  close  to  an  unworthy  career ;  and  his  char- 
acter would  have  remained  one  of  those  problems  in  nowise 
doubtful  to  such  as  understand  moral  or  even  political  laws, 
but  leaving  some  points  capable  of  being  seized  on  by  those 
wrong-headed  individuals  who  are  born  hero-worshippers. 
God  has  not  allowed  it.  Napoleon  is  judged  in  the  sight  of 
all  men,  and  lor  ever.  As  to  the  happy  change  which  has  been 
wrought  in  the  temper  of  the  French  nation,  it  has  not  in  the 
least  surprised  me.  Their  misfortunes  prepared  the  way  for 
it.  Moreover,  for  them  to  change  is  to  remain  the  same. 
Their  return  to  right  principles  reminds  one  of  the  bourgeois 
gentleman  and  his  hymn  ;  and  when  La  Fontaine  wound  up  one 
of  his  phrases  with  "  Vive  le  roil  vive  la  Ligne!"  he  gave 
expression  less  to  his  own  thoughtlessness  than  to  the  mobility 
of  his  countrymen.  Doubtless,  my  friend,  there  are  individu- 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  105 

als  who  ought  to  be  exempted'  from  this  judgment,  which,  like 
so  many  others,  would  be  unjust,  if  it  were  universal.  .  .  . 

You  and  I  have  different  conceptions  of  religion,  and  the 
aids  and  means  of  advancement  which  it  offers  us.  A  certain 
novelty  and  formality  about  the  step  you  have  taken  would  con- 
stantly disquiet  me,  were  not  my  heart  full  of  the  blessed  effects 
which  it  has  produced  upon  you.  You  are,  doubtless,  one  of 
the  people  whose  imagination  sometimes  carries  them  away ; 
but  then  your  singular  purity  of  heart  classes  you  with  those 
for  whom  all  things  work  for  good,  and  who  soar  on  the  wings 
of  inspiration  to  a  height  which  others  attain  only  by  painful 
efforts,  and  a  slow  and  sad  success.  I  trust  we  shall  often 
return  to  this  most  interesting  of  subjects  ;  and  I  am  quite  sure, 
that,  though  our  opinions  may  not  always  harmonize,  no  tem- 
porary divergence  can  really  separate  us,  our  point  of  departure 
and  our  end  being  the  same.  It  is  so  good  and  so  profitable 
for  two  to  travel  arm  in  arm,  supporting  one  another,  towards 
that  region  which  we  may  not  call  the  unknown.  .  .  . 

Yet  once  more,  my  friend :  can  it  be  possible  that  the  anima- 
tion of  our  discussions  should  degenerate  into  acrimony,  or 
weaken  an  attachment  so  thoroughly  reciprocal  ?  You  and  I 
must  be  other  than  we  are,  before  I  could  even  fear  such  an 
event.  Nothing  could  be  more  eloquent  or  fascinating  than 
what  you  say  of  the  rapid  progress  of  the  impressions  which 
now  sway  you.  One  could  easily  be  carried  away  by  the 
immense  range  which  the  system  you  adopt  offers  to  emanci- 
pated thought,  free  to  roam  at  will  through  the  vastnrss  of  the 
visible  and  invisible  creation  ;  but,  in  this  soaring  of  the  mind, 
which  marks  perhaps  its  point  of  highest  culture,  do  we  see,  as 
you  do,  any  trace  of  the  character  impressed  upon  religion  in 
the  primitive  days  of  Christianity?  I  see  but  one  approved 
route,  and  every  species  of  deviation  severely  censured.  I  see 
the  imagination  and  its  brightest  (breams  dreaded  as  the  source 
and  the  effects  of  illusion ;  a  boundless  submission  to  what  is 
established  by  common  consent ;  a  respect  for  tradition,  almost 
equal  to  what  is  accorded  to  the  Holy  Scriptures ;  and  a  perfect 
oneness  of  opinion  with  all  true  Christians,  to  whom  we  are 
bound  by  the  tie  of  a  fraternity  which  is  charitable  without 
being  weak.  No,  my  friend  :  my  faith  is  not  so  ill-assured  that 
I  can  fear  to  examine  the  bases  upon  which  it  rests.  I  say,  with 
you,  the  Christian  religion  is  not  merely  the  religion  of  love, 
but  that  of  science  too.  The  more  I  learn,  the  more  I  reflect; 
the  more  spiritual  and  thoughtful  the  life  I  lead,  the  more  firmly 
do  I  believe.  But  I  am  not  sure  that  every  species  of  science 
is  directly  and  immediately  serviceable  to  Christianity ;  whether 
or  no  it  may  not  nourish  our  pride,  which  feeds  on  any  thing; 


106  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

and  whether,  when  one  has  found  faith,  —  true  faith,  —  it  be 
not  wiser  quietly  to  cultivate  the  virtues  of  the  heart,  than  to 
leave  the  intellect  to  wander  in  the  labyrinth  of  those  ideas, 
—  ingenious,  it  may  be,  —  but  to  which  human  faith  alone  has 
given  a  divine  significance.  Yet  I  too,  dear  friend,  have 
plunged  into  studies  looking  to  the  same  end.  I  keep  as  much 
as  possible  to  the  main  route  there,  where  one  needs  at  least  that 
Ariadne's  thread  which  you  will  find  in  yourself.  I  advance 
slowly  and  painfully ;  my  only  consolation  being  my  sense  of 
a  steadfast  wish  to  grow  in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  the  law 
of  that  God  of  mercy  in  whom  we  have  such  need  to  hope. 
How  sweet  it  will  be,  my  friend,  to  unite  our  hope?,  and  cherish 
them  together !  Ah,  how  much  worthier  we  shall  be,  both  of 
heaven  and  earth,  when  our  souls  are  penetrated  by  the  blessed 
peace  that  follows  mutual  outpourings  !  .  .  . 

Forgive  me,  dear  Roxandra,  for  having  neglected  so  many 
days  to  send  you  this  additional  note  from  Count  de  Maistre. 
He  would  never  pardon  the  delay ;  but,  since  you  will  pardon 
any  thing,  please  keep  my  secret.  I  press  you  to  my  heart.  .  .  . 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  what  you  say  of  Mme.  de 
Kriidener  and  her  daughter  has  interested  me.  Since  I  cannot 
lay  claim  to  the  not  very  rare  honor  of  having  made  up  my 
mind  in  advance,  and  since,  by  a  whim  which  would  be  severely 
condemned  at  St.  Petersburg,  I  hold  (if  it  be  not  boastful 
to  say  so)  to  having  somewhat  exact  notions  of  a  question 
before  passing  judgment  upon  it,  my  opinion  of  the  Theo- 
sophists  of  Germany  is  in  a  state  which  would  drive  the 
orthodox  wild  with  indignation  and  fear.  One  can  make  great 
progress  in  so  vast  a  field :  and  it  has  always  seemed  to  me 
very  natural,  that,  in  the  laying  of  foundations,  some  should  be 
busy  in  removing  bricks  which  they  think  useless,  while  others 
are  adding  new ;  provided,  always,  that  the  lavishness  of  these 
last  does  not  defy  heaven  by  a  second  Tower  of  Babel.  I  be- 
lieve I  am  very  tolerant ;  but  I  have  always  found,  upon  reflec- 
tion, that  it  was  better  to  follow  religion  in  its  simplicity  than 
to  make  of  it  a  science,  whose  most  able  professors  are  not 
always  most  attached,  as  Christians,  to  the  precepts  which 
identify  practice  with  theory.  When  we  abandon  ourselves  to 
the  transports  and  the  abstractions  of  divine  love,  it  is  very 
rare  that  pride  fails  of  her  share,  and  dies  of  inanition.  The 
war-cry  of  this  sacred  army  is  always  "  Simplicity,"  "  Abnega- 
tion of  self  and  self-love ; "  but  this  fine  medal  unluckily  has 
a  reverse,  which  displays  all  the  correlative  vices.  Over  and 
above  these  considerations,  suggested  by  a  certain  society, 
there  is  another  which  would  have  decided  me  against  it ;  and 
that  is,  its  pronounced  aversion  for  every  thing  which  savors  of 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  107 

association.  I  have  never  understood  how  one  could  be  bound 
by  his  opinions  ;  and,  if  ever  I  am  a  member  of  a  sect,  it  will 
be  of  an  independent  one.  My  confidence  and  esteem  are 
awarded  to  character  only ;  and  the  romances  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe 
would  terrify  me  less  than  the  thought  that  I  was  in  the  clutches 
of  a  religious  party  constituting  a  separate  body  within  the 
body  of  the  Christian  Church.  Try,  my  dear  friend,  to  save 
yourself  from  this.  It  is  not  as  easy  as  you  suppose.  These 
people,  however  estimable  in  other  respects,  have  always  this 
mental  reservation ;  and  propagandised  is  lukewarm  compared 
to  the  ardor  which  they  throw  into  it.  Hear  them,  if  they  in- 
terest you,  but  do  not  adopt  their  opinions.  Take  from  them 
what  will  warm  the  heart  without  influencing  the  judgment. 
Your  brother  has  read  me  Mme.  de  Kriidener's  letter,  a  copy 
of  which  you  sent  him.  I  thought  it  admirable,  and  so  did  he  ; 
although  he  was  not  perhaps  quite  as  willing  as  myself  to  admit 
its  perfect  good  faith.  But  none  the  less  do  I  beg  of  you  to 
hold  fast  by  that  collier's  faith  to  which  I  come  back  after  all 
the  oscillations  which  reproduce,  to  some  extent,  in  my  poor 
head,  the  fermentation  of  opinions  that  took  place  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  Do  you  know  your  brother  has  contributed 
materially  toward  making  me  a  better  Greek-church  woman 
than  I  ever  was  before  ? ' .  .  . 

Though  nothing  positive  is  known  of  the  plans  on  which 
you  are  dependent,  I  presume,  according  to  all  appearances, 
that  the  Emperor  will  soon  take  a  fresh  start,  and  that  you  will 
remain  in  foreign  lands  till  he  returns  to  our  own ;  that  is,  for 
the  indefinite  period  during  which  the  Emperor  is  occupied 
with  the  affairs  of  Europe,  of  which  he  is  really  the  attorney- 
general.  Setting  aside  all  personal  considerations,  —  a  habit 
of  mine  which  has  become  almost  mechanical, — I  am  glad  of 
it.  A  further  residence  in  Germany  will  protract  for  you  that 
life  of  enchantment  which  never  lasts  too  long.  Moreover, 
this  lengthened  stay  appears  to  me  to  be  favorable  to  the  res- 
toration of  our  angel's  happiness.  Far  from  hostile  and 
jealous  looks,  and  the  machinations  of  intrigue  and  cunning, 
there  will  be,  I  fancy,  fewer  obstacles  to  a  change  in  her  lot. 
For  myself,  I  feel  that  I  am  incapable  of  illusions :  the  pre- 
monitory symptoms  are  unmistakable.  My  head  has  nurtured 
so  many  chimeras,  that  I  have  come  to  distrust  the  most  suitable 


1  M.  Stourdza  was  at  that  time  preparing  a  book,  entitled  "  Conside^ 
rations  sur  la  Doctrine  et  1' Esprit  de  1'Eglise  Orthodoxe."  Stutgard,  1816. 
This  book  was  refuted  by  Father  Rosaven,  in  a  volume  entitled  "  L'Eglisa 
Catholique  Justifie'e."  Lyons,  1824. 


108  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

combinations  which  I  have  arranged  for  others ;  the  very 
desire  of  seeing  them  realized  being  enough  to  give  them  the 
old  flavor  of  the  soil.  .  .  . 

I  have  had  two  letters  from  you,  whose  reception  I  have 
never  acknowledged.  The  last  was  from  Baden,  and  contained, 
like  its  predecessor,  a  most  lifelike,  and,  so  to  speak,  palpable 
picture  of  the  animate  and  inanimate  nature  about  you.  Ah, 
my  friend  !  every  day  strengthens  the  preference  which  I  award 
to  landscape  over  historical  painting.  I  envy  you  your  privi- 
lege of  wandering  through  one  of  the  loveliest  countries  on 
earth,  in  the  midst  of  magnificent  ruins,  clothed  with  all  the 
wealth  of  vegetation,  and  of  marrying  your  reveries  to  the  vague 
sweet  tones  of  -3Solian  harps.  But  it  does  not  make  me  in  the 
slightest  degree  covetous  to  see  you  surrounded  by  every  de- 
velopment of  the  human  heart,  and  reaping  the  dubious  delights 
of  observation.  .  .  . 

You  have  good  reason,  my  friend,  to  call  your  destiny  a 
strange  one.  It  will  not,  however,  on  this  occasion,  appear 
inexplicable  .to  those  who  love  you.  There  is  nothing  so 
attractive  to  noble  souls  as  a  noble  soul.  .  .  . 

It  is  natural  that  prudence  should  seem  a  quality  of  an 
inferior  order,  to  characters  like  yours ;  but,  trust  me,  it  is  the 
only  one  which  you  constantly  need  to  exercise.  The  eyes  of 
all  those  who  follow  the  career  in  which  you  have  engaged  will 
be  ever  upon  you.  Irritated  by  your  advantages,  they  will  find 
matter  for  discussion  in  your  most  insignificant  steps ;  and,  if 
you  do  not  meet  them  with  great  reserve  and  caution,  you  will 
involve  yourself  in  troubles  which  may  be  despised  theoretically, 
but  which,  in  reality,  one  feels.  Really,  my  dear  friend,  were 
it  not  for  your  extreme  goodness,  I  could  not  preach  to  you. 
If  I  could  only  do  it  like  Julia ! ' .  .  . 

What  a  blessed  thing  it  would  be,  if  those  who  are  raised 
by  their  rank  above  others,  and  by  popular  enthusiasm  above 
even  their  rank,  did  but  know  the  value  of  their  opinion,  which 
might  so  easily  be  made  to  subserve  the  purposes  of  reward 
and  punishment.  There  is  something  positively  magical  about 
the  intellectual  sway  exercised  by  that  invisible  sceptre  which 
deals  blows  so  authoritative,  and  so  salutary  when  they  strike 
home.  The  misconception  which  should  lead  any  one  to  attempt 
to  make  you  an  instrument  of  his  elevation  is  exceedingly 
droll ;  but,  dear  Roxandra,  it  is  your  own  fault.  Why  do  you 
conceal  so  much  finesse  under  the  simplest  and  most  artless 
demeanor?  . 


1  Julia  was  M me.  de  Kriidener's  Christian  name. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  109 

In  your  first  letter  you  said  that  M.  de  La  Harpe  had 
come,  but  that  you  had  trot  seen  him.  In  the  second,  you  said 
nothing  about  it.  Please,  a  little  more  information  on  this 
subject.  I  want  very  much  to  understand  it.  All  I  have  heard 
pleases  me,  even  the  blue  ribbon,  which  it  was  natural  for  the 
Emperor  to  offer  him,  but  which  he  need  not  have  accepted,  to 
prove  that  he  deserved  it.  This  act,  on  which  I  dare  not  pass 
judgment,  since  I  am  ignorant  of  his  motives,  which  might 
silence  all  objections,  has  nevertheless  confused  my  ideas 
about  him.  Will  M.  de  La  Harpe  return  to  Russia?  I  envy 
you  your  ability  to  associate  faces  with  all  these  famous  names. 
I  should  like  at  least  to  know  those  of  all  the  persons  in  whom 
you  feel  an  interest,  were  it  but  to  gratify  the  passing  caprice 
of  an  idle  moment.  This  M.  de  Berckheim,1  of  whom  you  tell 
me,  is  entitled  to  more  consideration,  to  judge  by  the  two  or 
three  strokes  of  the  pencil  which  give  me  his  portrait.  I  have 
read  "  L'Homme  de  D6sir,"2  which  he  lent  you.  It  is  a  very 
fine  poem,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  the  clouds.  When  we 
read,  we  seem  to  see  earth  from  the  eagle's  stand-point,  aloft 
in  the  air.  But  does  the  work  open  the  soul  to  real  heavenly 
impressions,  or  quicken  its  love  ?  I  think  not.  Appealing  to 
the  imagination,  rather  than  to  the  sensibility,  it  elevates  the 
mind,  but  scarcely  touches  the  heart.  Such,  at  least,  is  the  ef- 
fect it  produces  upon  me ;  and  it  is  the  same  with  all  religious 
writing  which  has  not  the  antique  simplicity  of  the  gospel  and 
its  divine  wisdom  of  expression.  Over-boldness  is  a  human 
foible,  and  does  not  come  by  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  I 
read  much,  my  friend ;  and,  the  more  I  read,  the  oftener  I  go 
back  to  those  first  principles  which  are  so  simple  that  childhood 
itself  can  lisp  them.  I  confine  myself  to  these,  and  desire  only 
to  purify  the  vase  which  receives  them.  The  outskirts  of  our 
estate  are  peopled  by  rascolnicks ; 3  and  yesterday,  when  I 


1  Son-in-law  and  disciple  of  Mine,  de  Kriidener. 

2  "L'Homme  de  De"sir"  is  a  work  by  St.  Martin,  published  in  1790, 
and  thus  described  by  M.  Sainte  Beuve:   "He  commands  the  attention, 
both  of  the  serious  and  the  profane,  by  the  vivid  beauties  which  gleam 
out  from  the  depths  of  his  obscurity,  and  by  certain  effusions  and  emo- 
tional  hymns,   in  which   he    announces   a  harbinger." — Causeries   de 
Lundi,  vol.  x. 

8  "Niet,  mamouchka  iaidou  starb'i  dorogoi  tchem  bog  blagoslovil." 
The  word  rascolnick  means,  in  Russian,  schismatic.  They  include,  under 
this  title,  all  sects  dissenting  from  the  Russian  Church.  The  adherents  of 
the  most  formidable  of  these  adopt  the  name  of  staroveres,  or  old  believ- 


110  LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

asked  a  poor  woman  from  one  of  the  villages  -which  most 
abounds  in  them  if  she  were  one,  she.  replied,  "  No,  my  little 
mother :  I  walk  in  the  old  way,  and  take  what  the  good  God 
gives  me."  .  .  . 

For  one  born  under  the  light  of  Christianity,  is  not  this 
the  highest  exercise  of  reason  ?  and  would  it  not  be  wise  for  the 
brightest  and  best  of  us  to  imitate  my  poor  woman  and  her 
answer,  and  the  deep  feeling  which  was  depicted  on  her  coun- 
tenance, and  seemed  to  have  dictated  her  reply  ?  I  think  as 
she  does  to-day  :  to-morrow,  who  knows  but  I  shall  be  troubled 
by  the  old  fruitless  speculations  ?  .  .  . 

My  good  friend,  curiosity  is  as  powerful  as  it  is  ancient; 
and  you  have  excited  mine  to  such  a  degree  that  I  understand 
Eve  better  than  ever  before.  1  know  not  whether  I  shall  have 
the  courage  to  put  to  sea  with  you  ;  but  this  much  is  certain,  — 
if  I  cannot  keep  you  in  port,  1  will  follow  you  with  my  vows. 
Are  they  not  such  as  insure  good  fortune  ?  I  have  sometimes 
feared  that  your  imagination  would  be  too  much  excited  by  the 
atmosphere  in  which  you  live ;  and  that,  if  the  truths  held  by 
the  superior  men  whom  you  admire  were  not  purged  of  error, 
you  would  take  the  error  along  with  the  truth.  But  I  feel 
re-assured,  when  I  reflect  that  your  naturally  reverent  mind 
never  seeks  to  transcend  the  limit  of  man's  powers.  The  old 
faith  is  proved  to  be  a  positive  faith  by  the  very  fact  that  it  has 
traversed  the  ages  unchanged.  Let  us  cling  closely  to  this 
main  truth,  however  widely  our  gaze  may  range.  All  that  is 
true  is  ever  ready  to  combine  with  the  one  truth  divinely  re- 
vealed and  universally  diffused ;  and  the  presence  of  an  alloy 
is  betrayed  by  its  very  refusal  to  unite.  .  .  . 


ers.  No  difference  of  dogma  separates  them  from  the  Established  Church. 
They  attach  extreme  importance  to  external  forms,  insignificant  in  them- 
selves. They  also  refuse  to  use  the  liturgy  corrected  by  the  Patriarch 
Nicon  in  the  seventeenth  century.  What  gives  their  dissent  a  serious 
character  is  their  persistent  refusal  to  recognize  in  the  Church  of  Russia 
the  true  church  of  Christ,  since  it  ceased  to  be  independent  of  the  tem- 
poral power.  The  government  does  not  recognize  them ;  but  they  con- 
stitute an  immense  organization  of  five  millions  of  men.  They  lay  great 
stress  on  freedom  of  conscience.  During  the  Crimean  War,  their  sympa- 
thy for  the  allies  was  very  pronounced.  The  news  from  Sevastopol  was 
known  among  them  before  the  official  journals  published  it.  We  see  by 
the  woman's  reply  to  Mme.  Swetchine,  that  those  who  do  not  share  the 
opinions  of  the  staroveres  treat  them  as  innovators,  and  consider  them- 
selves the  genuine  old  believers. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  Ill 

I  keep  forgetting  to  tell  you  that  I  have  seen  much  of 
Prince  Ypsilanti  and  his  family.  The  father  appears  to  me,  as 
to  every  one,  a  man  of  great  talent  and  vast  information,  to 
whom  the  contrast  between  his  Oriental  costume  and  his  thor- 
oughly European  manners  imparts  a  piquant  charm.  But  I 
must  acknowledge,  that,  as  a  disciple  of  Lavater  and  pure 
instinct,  I  should  not  feel  disposed  to  trust  him  implicitly. 
Something  scrutinizing  in  his  glance ;  something  hard  and 
penetrating ;  an  uncertain  and  dubious  expression  about  the 
countenance,  which  is  undoubtedly  the  accent  of  the  face,  — 
these  would  have  kept  me  on  the  defensive,  even  if  I  had  had 
good  reasons  for  trusting  him.  I  made  several  experiments 
upon  him,  which  I  will  describe  when  we  meet,  for  the  purpose 
of  proving  to  what  extent  simple  frankness  and  good-nature 
could  surprise  and  disconcert  finesse,  subtlety,  and  all  those 
qualities  in  which  the  intellect  confides.  As  to  his  eldest  son, 
Alexander,  I  believe  that  he  pleased  me  thoroughly.  He  could 
not  be  more  modest  or  more  loyal.  I  am  greatly  mistaken  if 
that  young  man  is  not  as  honorable  as  he  is  brave.  Perfectly 
simple,  without  a  touch  of  egotism,  his  calm  and  slightly  mel- 
ancholy air  wins  him  more  suffrages  than  he  could  obtain  by 
more  brilliant  advantages.1  .  .  .  My  friend,  even  if  the  Em- 
press did  not  attract  by  her  own  peculiar  charm ;  if  the  grace 
of  her  mind  and  manners  did  not  amply  atone  for  these  irregu- 
larities of  temper  which  disturb  you,  —  a  mere  sense  of  justice 

1  The  family  of  Ypsilanti  had  given,  in  1774,  a  hospodar  to  Wallachia, 
Prince  Alexander  Ypsilanti,  taken  prisoner  by  the  Austrians  in  1788. 
In  1799,  his  son  Constantino  was  appointed  Prince  of  Moldavia;  and,  in 
1807,  Moldavia  and  Wallachia  were  once  more  united  under  the  same 
government  Prince  Alexander  was  then  living  in  retirement  at  Con- 
stantinople. The  English  ambassador,  foreseeing  the  wrath  of  the  Sultan 
at  the  news  of  the  re-union  of  the  principalities,  had  a  frigate  placed  at 
the  disposal  of  Prince  Ypsilanti.  He  refused  this  means  of  escape,  and 
contented  himself  with  the  reply,  "At  eighty-five,  we  await  death,  not 
shun  it"  He  was  executed  at  Constantinople  on  the  8th  of  March,  1807. 
The  person  here  mentioned  was  his  grandson.  This  young  Prince  justi- 
fied Mme.  Swetchine's  judgment  at  the  time  of  the  Greek  insurrection. 
Greece  bestowed  on  him  the  official  title  of  Lieutenant-general  of  the 
Greek  nation;  and,  in  the  public  prayers,  he  was  called  "our  prince." 
After  the  Battle  of  Dragachan,  which  was  fought  contrary  to  his  orders, 
and  in  his  absence,  he  attempted  to  cross  Austria  incognito,  but  was 
arrested,  and  held  in  custody.  He  died  at  Vienna  on  the  23d  of  July, 
aged  thirty-six. 


112  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

should  prevent  one  from  dwelling  on  them.  Think  of  the  deep 
wounds  constantly  inflicted  upon  her  heart !  She  is  doomed  to 
suffer,  and  to  have  her  sufferings  indefinitely  multiplied  by 
every  capacity,  every  weakness,  and  every  want  of  our  poor 
human  nature.  Under  a  trial  so  dull,  so  disenchanting,  so  cal- 
culated to  imbitter,  the  soul  of  an  angel  would  succumb.  How 
easy  it  is  to  be  amiable  in  the  midst  of  happiness  and  success ! 
But  when  we  have  a  right  to  every  species  of  homage  and  de- 
votion, and  feel  within  us,  but  can  never  develop,  the  power 
to  inspire  the  same  ;  when  ever}'  thing  fails  us  at  once,  —  what 
can  we  show  the  world  but  a  conflict  which  is  not,  and  cannot 
be,  always  successful  ?  Think  of  this  sad  lot,  my  dear  friend, 
and  regulate  your  devotion  accordingly.  .  .  . 

I  approve  strongly  of  your  calmness  and  moderation ;  but 
do  not  let  them  be  mistaken  for  indifference.  The  shade  of 
difference  is  so  difficult  to  define,  so  easy  to  apprehend.  Lov- 
ing is  the  first  condition  of  being  loved.  Rest  assured  that  all 
imaginable  merit  and  all  possible  service  will  fail  of  winning 
confidence,  unless  their  object  is  informed  by  an  unerring  pre- 
sentiment that  the  source  of  our  devotedness  is  a  deep  and 
living  affection.  Do  not  fear  to  yield  to  such  a  sentiment, 
and  you  will  soon  cease  to  be  misunderstood.  I  should  not 
perhaps  have  advised  setting  your  affections  so  high ;  but,  since 
you  have  been  led  to  it  by  circumstances  (so  variously  inter- 
preted by  the  all-wise  mass  of  men),  utilize,  in  the  noblest 
sense  of  the  word,  the  means  afforded  you.  .  .  . 

The  Empress  has  always  appeared  to  me  the  most  inter- 
esting of  human  beings,  and  the  one  possessing  in  the  highest 
degree  the  charm  which  is  the  reflection  of  a  beautiful  soul ; 
but  I  have  thought  more  of  her  than  ever  of  late,  since  her 
hopes  and  ours  have  become  dim  and  uncertain.  I  love  the 
Emperor  sincerely ;  I  appreciate  him ;  I  honor  his  fine  quali- 
ties :  but  I  have,  I  must  confess,  a  grudge  against  him  for  re- 
sisting, as  he  does,  the  sweetest  and  most  holy  seductions  of 
virtue.  How  can  any  thing  else  win  his  regard,  especially 
when  that  other  thing  is  so  different,  so  inferior  ?  There  is  no 
woman  on  earth  capable  of  solving  this  hard  problem.  Delicate 
discernment  almost  always  accompanies  our  weakness ;  and  it 
is  a  rare  thing  for  a  superior  woman  to  love  much  without  a 
groundwork  of  esteem,  —  the  thing  of  all  others  most  agree- 
able to  the  vanity,  and  most  conducive  to  the  lasting  attach- 
ment, of  the  best  men.  I  am  glad  of  the  confidence  which  the 
Empress  seems  to  repose  in  you.  Attach  yourself  unreserv- 
edly to  her  destiny,  and,  believe  me,  in  tune  you  will  secure 
much  more  than  her  esteem.  .  .  . 

Your  scene  from  the  Capuchin  convent  makes  a  fine  pic- 


LIFE    OP   JtADAME    SWETCHIXE.  113 

ture,  which  would  not  disgrace  the  richest  gallery.  It  breathes 
the  religious  philosophy  of  the  artist,  who  trusts  that  people  of 
different  opinions  may  all  be  equally  right.  Christianity  in 
broad  touches  captivates  me.  Yet,  in  giving  my  faith  so  wide 
a  latitude,  I  am  embarrassed  by  the  thought  of  that  "  straight 
gate"  which  they  say  we  must  needs  enter;  and  my  heart 

frows  heavy  and  my  thought  confused,  when,  disregarding  the 
armony  of  the  ensemble,  I  endeavor  to  find  trutli  in  the  mass 
of  details.  And  who  shall  say  that  it  is  enough  to  feel  one's 
self  penetrated  with  the  spirit  of  religion  ?  and,  if  we  neglect 
to  seek  and  embrace  the  absolute  verity  of  positive  dogmas, 
can  we  hope  to  find  ourselves  clothed  with  the  wedding  gar- 
ment ?  .  .  . 

Your  heart  outstrips  your  reason,  and  leaden-shod  pru- 
dence wills  that  they  go  together.  To  think  of  my  preaching 
so  frigid  an  alliance !  As  to  that  project  of  a  convent  equally 
accessible  to  the  professors  of  the  three  religions,  its  success 
would  demand  a  far  more  conciliatory  spirit  than  obtains 
among  the  rival  mistresses  of  a  Mahometan  seraglio.  Ever 
so  slight  an  observation  of  men  shows  them  to  be  more  obsti- 
nate and  intolerant  in  their  opinions  than  exclusive  in  their 
feelings.  Add  to  this  the  immense  difficulties  which  would 
arise  from  the  inevitable  fermentation  of  religious  ideas,  from 
the  fanatical  zeal  with  which  each  would  defend  his  own  and 
reprove  and  anathematize  those  of  the  others,  and  you  will 
see,  my  friend,  that,  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  work  you 
meditate,  there  would  be  required  a  different  age,  a  different 
place,  and  different  men.  We  must  not  forget,  that,  in  reli- 
gious discussion,  as  well  as  religious  philosophy,  we  are  still  a 
virgin  nation  ;  and  we  can  but  fear  that  the  natural  growth  of 
this  element  will  lead  us  through  the  storms  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  or  carry  us,  at  one  leap,  into  the  dazzling  darkness 
of  Germany.  I  do  not  need  to  remind  you  that  I  have  neither 
prepossessions  nor  prejudices :  the  unsettled  state  of  my  own 
opinions  does  not  entitle  me  to  such,  and,  besides,  they  are 
inconsistent  with  my  character ;  but  none  the  less  do  I  abhor 
sects.  The  unjustifiably  harsh  and  intolerant  spirit  which 
possesses  them  condemns  them  in  my  eyes,  and  makes  them 
intolerably  repugnant  to  me.  I  do  not  know  whether  the 
dreams  of  Mine,  de  Kriidener  and  Jung  resemble  those  of 
our  own  sectaries ;  I  only  know  their  general  character ;  but, 
if  the  spirit  of  yours  is  narrow  and  inquisitorial,  other  fruits  of 
the  same  tree  are  doubtless  similar.  .  .  . 

As  for  me,  my  chronic  ailments  continue  to  be  mitigated 
by  the  pure  air  which  I  breathe,  and  the  independence  of  this 
country  life.  If  the  situation  were  only  a  pleasant  one,  I 

8 


114  LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

should  be  perfectly  contented.  If  no  aspects  of  nature  are 
entirely  dumb,  it  is  certain  that  all  do  not  appeal  to  our  souls 
with  equal  force ;  and  hence  my  fancy  for  two  or  three  rooms 
connected  with  some  royal  palace.  My  first  requisition  is  pleas- 
ant surroundings  which  do  not  belong  to  me  ;  for  proprietorship 
entails  so  many  troubles,  that  it  would  oblige  me  to  renounce 
that  quietistic  repose  which  1  never  want  interrupted  by  sub- 
lunary affairs.  I  hesitate  about  confessing  it,  lest  it  should 
injure  me  with  you,  my  friend,  whose  imagination  the  fields, 
the  woods,  and  the  meadows  have  captivated,  and,  so  to  speak, 
idyllized.  But  we  ought  to  prefer  truth  to  success :  and,  I 
must  own,  blushing  for  my  artificiality  of  taste  the  while,  that 
I  have  no  fancy  for  the  country.  I  like  neither  to  plant  nor  to 
sow  nor  to  cultivate  nor  to  adorn ;  and  I  could  enjoy  my- 
self only  in  a  spot  which  had  been  planted,  sown,  and  adorned 
without  any  interference  of  mine.  I  like  very  well  to  gather 
fruit ;  but,  if  I  were  to  spend  a  hundred  years  in  one  spot,  I 
should  leave  no  trace  of  the  sojourn  of  an  intelligent  being. 
I  want  vegetation  to  do  without  me,  and  every  thing  to  come 
as  if  by  magic,  and  independently  of  any  law  of  mine.  Rous- 
seau, with  his  silly  reveries  in  the  groves  of  Montmorency, 
which  he  was  fortunate  enough  not  to  own,  is  a  kind  of  mole, 
whom,  but  for  his  genius,  I  should  take  great  pains  to  avoid.  .  . 
"The  universe,"  says  some  one,  "is  but  the  symbol  of  a 
great  thought."  It  seems  to  me  impossible  to  doubt  that  there 
exists  a  unity  between  the  moral  and  physical  world  ;  that  the 
latter  is  but  the  manifestation  of  the  former, — the  sheath  which 
preserves  its  forms,  and  follows  its  contours.  But  I  hold  it 
to  be  a  somewhat  dangerous  belief,  that  the  indefinite  perfecti- 
bility of  man,  either  individually  or  collectively,  could  ever 
result  from  progress  in  this  direction,  —  that  the  key  of  the 
great  book  could  be  attained  thereby,  —  especially  that  a  sin- 

fle  religious  truth  could  thus  be  added  to  what  is  revealed. 
Ian  may  perfect  himself,  so  far  as  his  nature  allows  it,  better 
by  action  than  by  speculation ;  for  the  grandest  flights  of  the 
latter  will  teach  him  nothing  beyond  the  simple  and  sublime 
precepts  contained  in  the  Lord's  Prayer.  The  key  of  the  great 
book  is  still  a  kind  of  philosopher's  stone ;  and  as  to  religion, 
for  the  very  reason  that  it  is  divine,  it  must  needs  have  been 
perfect  from  the  beginning.  We  corrupt  rather  than  perfect 
religion,  if  we  either  add  or  take  away  from  the  Nicene  Creed ; 
and  it  should  not,  I  think,  be  hard  for  us,  in  our  day,  to  seek 
our  rule  of  faith  in  an  age  of  miracle,  saintship,  and  sacrifice. 
Such,  dear  friend,  are  my  views  on  this  important  subject ;  but 
I  would  not  set  myself  up  above  those  who  think  otherwise, 
nor  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  studying  the  most  diverse 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  115 

systems.  Tell  me  always  about  those  which  impress  you ; 
but  take  care,  I  beg  of  you,  not  to  be  carried  away  by  them. 
Think  how  pure  and  beautiful  our  faith  is,  and  consider,  that, 
since  so  many  careers  are  open  to  one  of  your  fine  imagination, 
you  ought  all  the  more  willingly  to  close  this  by  your  own 
submission.  Do  not  exercise,  in  matters  of  doctrine,  an  indif- 
ference which  would  be  truly  culpable.  Think  what  religion 
would  have  become,  if  the  first  believers  had  not  been  faithful 
to  their  precious  trust.  .  .  . 

My  husband  has  just  returned  from  Moscow,  where  he  has 
been  very  ill ;  and,  although  I  did  not  know  of  his  danger  till  it 
was  passed,  I  have  been  exceedingly  anxious.  .  .  . 

When  shall  I  thank  God  for  your  return  ?  The  reports  we 
get  are  utterly  contradictory ;  and  I  anxiously  wait  the  de- 
cision which  will  probably  follow  the  Emperor's  journey  to 
Munich.  If  any  further  complication  takes  place  in  political 
affairs,  who  can  foresee  the  end  of  so  many  inextricable  diffi- 
culties ?  My  timid  nature  shrinks  at  the  approach  of  a  conflict 
which  promises  to  be  long  protracted,  although  a  favorable 
issue  seems  certain.  The  state  of  suspense  in  which  we  live 
is  very  painful.  All  we  can  do  is  to  lay  before  God  our  un- 
certainty, and  our  confused  sense  of  fear,  —  fear  of  a  personal 
character ;  for  revolutions  are  impending  on  all  sides,  and  we 
cannot  hope  that  any  part  will  remain  sound  in  the  midst  of 
the  general  corruption,  nor  immovable  upon  its  foundations 
when  there  are  secret  mines  or  visible  ravages  everywhere. 
The  spirit  of  God  broods  over  fiery  volcanoes  as  well  as  over 
green  and  tranquil  meadows  ;  and  this  must  be  our  consolation 
for  living  at  the  present  time.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  far  from 
regretting  the  age  in  which  I  live,  —  so  fertile  in  the  events 
which  awaken  great  thoughts.  If  we  were  to  be  annihilated 
after  a  single  day  of  life,  I  should  wish  that  day  to  be  perfectly 
fair ;  but  storms,  hurricanes,  all  the  grand  spectacles  of  nature, 
—  which  are,  it  may  be,  but  an  image  of  human  ravages  and 
commotions,  —  are  better  suited  to  a  being  who  bears  within 
himself  the  pledge  of  his  immortality.  .  .  . 

Philosophy  has  been  speculative  in  other  times  ;  in  our  own, 
it  is  practical.  Its  truths  have  become  intuitive ;  we  breathe 
them  in  the  air;  if  we  do  but  resolve  not  to  repel,  we  become 
penetrated  by  them.  And  the  shocks  and  overturns  we  witness 
suffice,  even  without  personal  contact,  to  induce  that  passive 
submission  which  otherwise  is  either  the  result  of  misfortune, 
or  the  chef-d'oeuvre  of  wisdom.  How  finely  you  are  situated, 
my  friend,  for  the  study  of  all  these  vicissitudes,  which  are 
especially  striking  in  high  places  !  What  a  view  you  must  have 
from  your  stand-point !  How  insignificant  the  objects  which  the 


116  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

vulgar  invest  with  grandeur  must  appear  in  your  eyes !  You 
can  judge  of  human  affairs  just  as  they  are.  From  the  top  of 
the  Saltzburg  Mountains  you  admire  the  natural  heaven  ;  and 
in  the  presence  of  earth's  potentates,  and  in  the  midst  of  their 
conflicting  interests,  one  may  study  with  profit  the  action  of 
God,  who  smites  with  vanity  and  nothingness  what  he  seemed 
to  have  lifted  highest.  My  friend,  you  must  have  completed 
your  course  of  experience ;  and,  if  you  have  gained  no  happi- 
ness thereby,  you  have  garnered  a  multitude  of  useful  ideas 
and  observations,  whose  influence  will  extend  over  all  your 
life.  Its  effect,  so  fa*  as  regards  an  acute  discrimination  of 
good  and  evil,  is  assured  to  you :  only  try  to  add  to  this  the 
regulation  of  your  external  conduct,  and  its  restraint  within 
the  bounds  of  moderation  and  prudence.  Preserve  your  inde- 
pendence, as  the  source  of  all  that  is  noble,  strong,  and  eleva- 
ted ;  but  do  not  let  it  appear  on  the  surface.  Those  who  are 
incapable  of  it  themselves  would  take  it  for  hauteur ;  and  it  is 
our  duty  to  prevent  unjust  misconceptions.  Oh  !  when  shall  we 
be  together  ?  When  will  it  be  given  me  to  share  your  impres- 
sions immediately,  and  modify  them  by  the  very  fact,  that  I  do 
uot  possess,  in  the  same  degree  as  yourself,  what  pleases  and 
suits  me  so  perfectly  in  you  ?  We  both  love  truth ;  and  we 
both  love  it  undisguised  and  unveiled.  What  hope  for  advance- 
ment does  not  this  disposition  authorize  ?  Never  before,  my 
friend,  have  I  desired  so  earnestly  to  render  myself  worthy  of 
all  God  has  done  for  me  in  giving  me  a  tender  heart,  and  the 
power  of  loving  virtue  passionately,  and  of  sacrificing  myself 
to  my  friends.  I  am  neither  troubled  nor  perplexed,  but  I  am 
often  sad  that  I  make  so  little  progress  in  a  route  whose  beauty 
and  magnificence  I  see  so  plainly.  How  I  have  followed  you 
in  your  journey  over  the  mountains  of  Saltzburg !  Your  de- 
scription is  enchanting,  and  consoles  me  for  the  fact  that  1  am 
probably  doomed  to  see  nature  only  in  pictures :  yours  are 
full  of  warmth  and  life  ;  and  richer  coloring  never  animated  a 
pencil.  How  pleasant  it  would  be,  if  we  could  make  landscapes 
together!  You  would  take  care  of  the  ensemble, — of  the  trees, 
the  water,  the  effects  of  light ;  and  I  should  beg  to  be  allowed 
to  place,  in  one  of  the  dimmest  corners,  some  mouldering  mon- 
ument, some  burial-stone,  or  a  figure  whose  grave  and  melan- 
choly attitude  should  announce  meditation  or  sorrow.  If  that 
fine  landscape  of  Poussin's  had  been  our  joint  production, 
my  part  would  have  been  only  the  inscription,  "And  I,  too, 
was ."  *  I  should  have  liked  that  sufficiently  well.  When 

1  An  allusion  to  a  celebrated  picture  of  Poussin's,  representing  a  tomb, 
the  sight  of  which  hushes  all  the  sounds  and  extinguishes  all  the  light 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  117 

I  want  actual  delectation,  I  dream  of  travelling  with  you,  — that 
we  are  traversing  glorious  countries,  where  beautiful  landscapes 
suggest  noble  thoughts,  thinking  of  heaven  while  we  admire 
earth.  Will  it  ever  come  to  pass  ?  .  .  . 

I  cannot  tell  you,  my  friend,  with  what  an  intensity  of  de- 
sire I  yearn  for  an  existence  apart  from  the  crowd  !  I  have 
seen  a  good  deal  of  society  this  winter,  and  given  myself  up  to 
it  more  entirely  than  I  had  done  for  several  years ;  and  the 
result  of  the  experiment  is,  that  at  heart  I  am  more  alienated 
from  it  than  ever.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  have,  in  any  human 
relation,  only  the  trifling  stake  of  cool  and  rational  mortals. 
Kven  general  benevolence  —  a  sentiment  so  minutely  divided 
that  it  is  well-nigh  reduced  to  nothing  —  assumes  an  actual  con- 
sistency in  my  case.  Every  thing  that  I  see  always  inspires  me 
with  more  or  less  interest ;  and  the  result  is  a  vague  emotion, 
fatigue  without  compensation.  I  know  not  the  art  of  specu- 
lating on  the  amusement  afforded  us  by  others ;  and  what  are 
deemed  flattering  successes  are  so  for  me  only  when  I  can  sup-\ 
pose  them  to  have  planted  some  germ  of  kindness  in  the  hearts  ' 
of  my  fellow-men.  My  own  embraces  so  easily  the  whole  crea- 
tion, and  every  individual  in  it ;  my  natural  impulse  is  so  surely 
to  sympathize  with  another's  feeling,  —  that  I  am  constantly 
shocked  by  the  dryness,  insensibility,  and  coldness  which  I 
inevitably  encounter  on  my  way.  What  shall  be  said,  then,  of 
that  malevolence  which  has  too  little  idea  of  self-concealment ; 
of  that  irritable  envy  which  cannot  be  appeased ;  of  that  aver- 
sion, under  the  mask  of  indifference,  to  every  thing  which  sug- 
gests the  most  miserable  advantages  of  a  miserable  life  ?  And, 
in  the  suffrages  which  we  rely  on  most,  what  a  sense  of  disap- 
pointment and  emptiness  succeeds  to  the  agreeable  feeling 
which  they  excite !  .  .  . 

That  journey  into  the  Vosges,1  which  you  were  planning 

of  life,  in  the  midst  of  the  joy-breathing  landscape.  Youth  and  love 
har  lly  heed  the  lesson:  they  but  glance  that  way,  and  pass  on.  The 
shepherd  on  the  left  —  less  young  and  less  happy,  for  he  is  alone  —  feels  it 
more  deeply.  But  the  figure  in  the  foreground,  of  one  who  has  lived  his 
life,  lost  his  crown  of  verdure,  and  is  already  bowed  with  age;  the  shep- 
herd who  stoops  to  read  the  inscription,  "Et  in  Arcadia  ego ,"  tastes 

its  sadness,  and  muses  on  its  application.  He  personifies  the  sentiment  of 
Mme.  Swetchine.  For  others,  the  charming  landscape,  its  shadows  and 
its  distances;  for  him,  the  monument. 

1  They  were  talking  of  visiting  the  Ban-de-la-Roche,  or  Oberlin,  a 
Protestant  pastor,  greatly  revered,  who  drew  around  him  spirits  like  Mme. 
de  Kriidener.  It  was  a  place  for  retirement,  preaching,  and  good  works, 


118  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

with  Mme.  de  Kriidener,  will  afford  you  a  variety,  and  a  great 
pleasure.  But  who  knows,  my  friend,  whether  to  breathe  for  a 
fortnight,  instead  of  a  week,  a  perfectly  calm  atmosphere  would 
not  cure  you  of  this  fancy  altogether?  I  have  always  heard 
the  most  experienced  seamen  say  that  a  calm  was  pleasant 
immediately  after  a  storm ;  but  that,  if  it  lasted  ever  so  short 
a  time,  it  became  insupportable.  When  I  see  you  believing 
just  what  you  wish  to  believe,  you  seem  to  me  a  true  descend- 
ant of  those  Greeks  whom  the  hierophant  of  Thebes  treated 
like  children.  How  shall  one  know  one's  own  will,  when,  caught 
with  difficulty  upon  the  wing,  it  escapes  us,  soars  off,  and  re- 
produces itself  unceasingly  under  new  forms  ?  As  often  as  its 
vague  unrest  is  soothed,  it  arises  anew  from  its  ashes,  ever 
craving  satisfaction,  but  never  satisfied  long.  I  am  not  sur- 
prised that  you  should  desire  a  change,  and  I  believe  you  to  be 
perfectly  sincere  in  your  longing  for  repose  ;  but  you  probably 
deceive  yourself  in  supposing  that  it  would  suit  you,  for  you 
embellish  it  with  all  the  colors  with  which  we  always  adorn 
what  we  lack.  Prolonged  repose  suits  very  few  people,  and  no 
one  less  than  you,  whose  active  mind  needs  something  to  feed 
upon.  You  do  not  yet  know  what  it  is  to  be  constantly  thrown 
back  upon  yourself,  —  the  fatigue  and  depression  which  result 
therefrom,  as  well  as  the  need  of  being  called  out  of  self  by 
external  objects.  On  this  subject  I  could  make  out  a  little 
memorial,  which  should  be  a  simple  recital  of  facts,  and  which, 
like  a  good  many  other  things,  would  be  useful  as  material  for 
an  immense  work  on  the  extravagances  of  human  misery.  .  .  . 

The  unreliability  of  the  post,  mistakes  and  misdirections,  — 
all  the  obstacles  which  ill  luck  can  accumulate,  combined,  my 
friend,  to  prevent  my  receiving  before  yesterday  your  two  let- 
ters,—  that  of  the  12th  of  July,  forwarded  in  the  Galitzin 
packet ;  and  that  of  the  18th,  written  after  the  Emperor  left. 
As  to  the  letter  which  you  sent  by  the  august  individual  who 
previously  had  been  only  the  messenger  of  Heaven,  I  never  got 
it, — unless,  indeed,  you  were  mistaken  about  the  date,  and  it  was 
the  same  that  was  put  in  Helen  Galitzin's  packet.  It  is  very 
certain  the  Emperor  did  not  forget  it ;  for  he  was  kind  enough 
to  say  to  my  husband,  that  he  had  a  letter  for  me,  and  that  he 
would  forward  it  to  him.  My  husband  said  no  more  to  me 
about  it ;  and  I  do  not  know  whether  the  letter  received  is  the 
letter  in  question.  How  what  you  told  me  of  the  interview ' 


which  M.  Ch.  Eynard  describes  as  "one  of  those  oases  which  the  Lord 
prepares  for  his  weak  children  in  the  desert  of  the  world." 

1  First  interview  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress  after  the  Restoration. 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    8WETCHINE.  119 

affected  me  !  What  sweet  and  tender  tears  I  shed !  For  more 
than  a  month,  my  eye  has  been  fixed  upon  this  point ;  and  my 
hopes  and  wishes  have  anticipated  the  moment  which  was  to 
realize  them.  There  was,  too,  a  mixture  of  fear  f  for,  do  what 
I  will,  black  predominates  on  my  palette.  But  with  what 
rapture  do  I  wipe  off  that  ugly  black  to-day,  and  abandon  my- 
self to  the  enjoyment  of  the  perfect  confidence  which  that  part 
of  your  letter  inspires  !  In  that  longed-for  re-union,  I  seem  to 
see  the  sole  triumph  which  virtue  had  to  win,  —  evil  vanquished 
in  its  last  intrenchment,  and  under  its  last  aspect ;  and  the 
dawn  of  a  new  day  of  favor  and  blessing  for  Russia.  Heaven 
will  complete  its  work,  and  renew  in  our  midst  the  solemn  act 
of  pardon  which  divine  compassion,  variously  expressed,  seems 
proclaiming  to  the  universe.  For  what  means  the  late  succes- 
sion of  happy  events,  if  not  that  suffering  Europe  has  made  full 
atonement  for  guilty  Europe,  and  the  time  of  reconciliation  has 
come?  Ah  !  let  us  be  worthy  of  it ;  and  let  our  own  regenera- 
tion be  the  first  pledge  of  that  alliance  to  which  God,  more  un- 
mistakably than  ever,  has  invited  man.  Dear  friend,  my  heart 
is  full  of  joyful  emotion.  If,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  we  are  ap- 
palled, oppressed,  afflicted,  by  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked,  the 
triumph  of  virtue  strengthens  our  faith,  augments  our  elasticity 
of  spirit,  and  gives  us  a  share  in  the  deep  content  of  the  vic- 
tors. In  such  moments,  one  feels  happy  and  strong,  simply 
because  there  are  those  who  have  persevered  till  they  have  won 
power  and  happiness.  .  .  . 

You  were  right  in  concluding  that  I  was  not  one  of  those 
who  looked  for  a  marvellous  run  of  unexampled  good  fortune 
to  establish  the  Emperor's  credit.  I  have  made  some  experi- 
ments in  this  connection.  No  surprise  has  been  occasioned  by 
events,  nor  have  his  noblest  actions  excited  any.  My  admira- 
tion is  not  as  exalted  as  yours  ;  for  my  soul,  like  the  antediluvian 
earth,  has  all  her  pristine  force :  but  it  is  genuine,  and  such  as 
a  recluse  may  experience,  bearing  principally  upon  the  things 
least  appreciated  by  the  multitude.  The  interest  which  the 
Emperor  testifies  in  you  is  enough  to  awaken  your  gratitude ; 
although  one  does  not  need  to  have  danced  with  him  before  one 
can  say,  from  the  bottom  of  one's  heart,  that  he  is  the  best 
prince  in  the  world.  If  his  kindness  to  you,  my  friend,  leaves 
you  the  possibility  of  rendering  him  a  service,  profit  by  the 
opportunity  ;  but  do  it  with  great  tact.  We  are  responsible  for 
the  employment  of  such  credit  as  we  have  with  others ;  and  I 
charge  you  not  to  use  yours  to  flatter  that  vanity  which  we 
must  combat  in  ourselves,  and  never  encourage  in  others. 


120  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Album  of  Louis  de  Saint  Priest,  and  unpublished  thoughts  of  Count  de 
Maistre.  —  Death  of  the  Princess  de  Tarente. 

THE  volumes  of  extracts,  always  carefully  continued  by 
Mme.  Swetchine,  take  a  new  form  in  the  year  1814. 
On  the  first  page  of  a  small  album,  we  read,  "  Last  gift  of 
Louis  de  Saint  Priest  on  his  leaving  Russia,  Oct.  29,  1814." 
The  binding  of  this  album  bears  a  vermilion  scroll,  on 
which  are  engraved  these  words  :  "  I,  too,  knew  him."  The 
volume  opens  with  some  verses  of  M.  de  Saint  Priest,  ad- 
dressed to  Mme.  Swetchine.  They  close  as  follows :  — 

"  Heurenx  qui  toi  ressemble,  aimable  violette ; 
Heureux  qui  comme  toi  cherche  a  vivre  oublie' : 
Aux  yeux  indiffe'rents  cache  bien  ta  retraite ; 
Mais  "qu'elle  soit  au  moins  ouverte  a  1'amitid."  * 

These  verses,  which  bear  witness  to  the  unfailing  modesty 
of  Mme.  Swetchine,  attest  also  by  their  signature  the  value 
attached  to  relations  with  her.  The  volume  under  consid- 
eration is  wholly  consecrated  to  religious  thoughts,  mingled 
with  fragments  from  the  conversation  of  Count  de  Maistre. 
Some  of  these  coruscations  have  been  preserved  in  his 
writings ;  but  here  we  find  the  original  flash,  the  accent  of 
spontaneous  inspiration.  The  greater  part  have  never  been 
published. 


1  "  Sweet  violet!  blessed  are  those  who,  like  thee,  seek  to  live  forgot- 
ten. Still  do  thou  hide  thy  retreat  from  careless  eyes,  but  let  it  be  ever 
accessible  to  friendship." 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  121 

"  The  Turks  shut  up  their  women,"  said  Lord  Byron,  "  and 
are  all  the  better  for  it." —  "  Yes,"  replied  Count  de  Maistre : 
"  they  need  either  the  four  walls  or  the  four  evangelists." 

Genius  does  not  seem  to  derive  any  great  support  from 
syllogisms.  Its  carriage  is  free:  its  manner  has  a  touch  of  in- 
spiration. We  see  it  come,  but  we  never  see  it  walk. 

The  greatest  sin  against  grace  is  to  accord  too  much  to  it. 

To  restrain  the  desire  of  a  Russian  is  enough  to  make  it 
explode. 

1  would  gladly  preach  to  kings  and  people  simultaneously, 
and  my  sermon  would  be  as  follows :  I  would  turn  to  their 
majesties,  and  say,  with  a  profound  bow,  "  Sires,  abuses  lead  to 
revolutions;"  then,  addressing  myself  to  the  people,  "Mes- 
sieurs, abuses  are  preferable  to  revolutions." 

In  the  language  of  the  Orient,  a  woman  is  a  speaking 
flower.  M.  de  Maistre  denned  a  child  as  an  angel  dependent 
on  man. 

"Thou  shalt  not  kill,"  —  where  is  the  man  who  even  knows 
what  it  is  to  kill  ?  In  how  many  ways,  to  what  different  degrees, 
life  may  be  withdrawn,  obstructed,  destroyed  !  The  Devil,  who 
was  a  "homicide"  in  the  beginning,  has  been  so  always,  and 
throughout  his  kingdom ;  and  it  is  by  no  means  with  the  sword 
that  he  has  cut  off  the  majority  of  men. 

A  legend  which  M.  de  Maistre  greatly  admired  represents, 
on  the  one  hand,  the  arrival  before  the  throne  of  God  of  the  peni- 
tent souls  whom  his  pity  admits  into  the  eternal  city ;  and,  on 
the  other,  Satan  reproaching  God  with  his  injustice:  "These 
souls  have  offended  thee  a  thousand  times,  and  I  only  once."  — 
"  Hast  thou  ever  asked  for  pardon?  "  replies  the  Eternal. 

It  was  in  the  same  spirit  that  M.  de  Maistre  altered  the 
following  verses  of  Boileau,  which  doubtless  he  found  too 
Jansenistic :  — 

"  L'Evangile  a  1'esprit  n'offre  de  tous  cote's, 
Que  penitence  a  faire  et  tourments  ine'rite's !  " 1 

These  lines  are  written  in  Mme.  Swetchine's  hand,  with- 
out index  to  their  source,  and  followed  by  these  words  : 
"  M.  de  Maistre  alters  them  thus : "  — 


1  "  The  gospel  everywhere  offers  to  the  soul  the  choice  of  repentance 
or  merited  torments."  M.  de  Maistre  would  substitute  "free  grace"  for 
"  repentance." 


122  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETOHINE. 

"  L'Evangile  a  1'esprit  n'offre  de  tons  cote's, 
MiseVicorde  offerte  et  tourments  me'rite's." 

"No  man  has  ceased  to  believe  in  God  until  be  bas  desired 
to  annihilate  him." 

"  Submission,  which  exposes  one  to  believing  too  much,  ex- 
poses to  nothing.  Pride,  which  exposes  one  to  believing  too 
little,  exposes  to  every  thing. 

The  play  of  children  is  business,  and  the  business  of  men  is 
play,  —  n'est  cepas,  madam? 

The  last  thoughts  are  in  Count  de  Maistre's  own  hand, 
preceded  and  followed  by  selections  from  Massillon  and 
Pascal,  and  German  poetry,  also  in  his  writing. 

Verses  inscribed  by  Count  de  Maistre  on  the  Monument  of  Descartes. 

"  Esclave  dans  les  murs  du  cloitre  et  de  1'^cole, 
La  raison  n'osait  rien.    Je  vins  briser  ses  fers. 
Je  fletris  de  vieux  mots  la  science  frivole, 
Et  c'est  moi  que  donnai  Newton  a  1'univers." 1 

We  have  already  had  a  glimpse,  through  Mme.  Swet- 
chine's  correspondence  with  her  friend,  of  her  rapid  prog- 

1  "  Immured  as  a  slave  in  the  cloister  and  school,  Reason  was  power- 
less. I  came  to  break  her  chains.  I  branded  as  obsolete  their  superficial 
science,  and  it  was  I  who  gave  Newton  to  the  world." 

Although  M.  De  Maistre  cannot  be  considered  a  detractor  of  Des- 
cartes, I  hesitated  to  attribute  these  verses  to  him  merely  on  the  faith  of 
the  ambiguous  compilation  which  precedes  them.  In  addressing  II. 
Cousin,  I  believed  that  I  was  submitting  my  doubt  to  the  man  most  capa- 
ble of  resolving  it.  I  had  the  honor  to  receive  from  him  the  following 
reply:  "The  verse  which  you  send  me  is  both  beautiful  and  true.  It 
certainly  was  Descartes  who  gave  Newton  to  the  universe:  for  the 
supreme  difficulty  was  to  comprehend  that  the  problem  of  the  construction 
of  the  worlds  was  a  problem  in  mechanics;  and  Descartes  was  the  first 
who  so  conceived  it.  The  problem,  once  fairly  stated,  has  been  resolved 
by  Huyghens  and  Newton  successively.  It  is  then  to  Descartes,  as  to  the 
first  discoverer,  that  we  must  refer  the  system  of  the  universe,  and  a  por- 
tion of  Newton's  glory.  M.  de  Maistre,  therefore,  was  perfectly  right; 
and  his  verse  was  true  in  toto.  I  cannot  say  whether  this  verse  of  M.  de 
Maistre's  is  generally  known ;  but  it  was  new  to  me.  Besides,  upon  what 
monument  of  Descartes  could  it  have  been  placed  ?  Descartes  never  had 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  123 

ress  in  pious  emotions  and  instinctive  aspirations  after 
truth.  In  this  healthful  movement,  much  was  due  to  her 
association  with  the  French  emigres  and  their  example. 
"We  are  now  to  note  another  link  in  that  invisible  chain 
which  associates  with  France  the  last  struggles  and  the 
definitive  victory  of  that  great  soul. 

The  Chevalier  d'Augard  had  recently  died,  as  he  had 
lived,  in  a  frame  of  the  most  exalted  piety.  The  Princess 
de  Tarente,  in  her  turn,  was  near  her  end.  She  had  never 
dreamed  of  quitting  the  land  of  the  stranger,  while  the 
house  of  Bourbon  still  languished  in  exile.  With  her,  as 
with  the  rest  of  the  world,  the  Emperor  Paul  had  caused 
disgrace  to  follow  swiftly  upon  favor ;  but  the  society  of 
St.  Petersburg  had  never  ceased  to  lavish  upon  her  every 
testimonial  of  affection  and  respect.  Count  Golowine  had 
offered  her  rooms  in  his  house ;  and  that  house  was  almost 
a  home  to  her.  Count  Golowine's  daughters  divided  their 
devotion  between  their  mother  and  their  illustrious  guest. 
The  Princess  de  Tarente  held  her  sway  rather  by  the 
authority  of  virtue  than  by  superiority  of  mind.  Her 
political  ideas  were  remarkable  neither  for  depth  of  wis- 
dom nor  acuteness  of  penetration ;  but  they  were  mixed 

a  monument:  when  his  remains  were  brought  back  from  Sweden  to  Paris, 
they  were  temporarily  deposited  in  St.  Genevieve;  and  his  disciples  of 
every  rank  assembled  to  hear  his  funeral  oration,  which  was  to  be  pro- 
nounced by  M.  1'Abbe"  Lallemont,  the  university  orator  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  A  mandate  of  the  king  arrested  the  ceremony,  and  closed  the 
learned  orator's  mouth.  The  body  of  Descartes  was  at  St.  Germain  des 
Pres.  At  the  Restoration,  it  was  transferred  to  the  cemetery  of  Pere  la 
Chaise.  His  head  has  been  handed  about  in  the  amphitheatres  of  the 
Museum  of  Natural  History.  There  has  not  been,  for  forty  years,  a  com- 
plete French  edition  of  his  works.  My  own  is  unworthy  of  him.  1  was 
too  young  for  such  an  enterprise.  I  therefore  honor  Count  de  Maistre,  if, 
as  I  suppose,  he  wrote  this  verse  to  be  engraved  on  the  monument  which 
he  desired  to  have  erected  to  Descartes." 


124  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

up  with  such  stately  traditions  and  such  pathetic  misfor- 
tunes, that  one  easily  forgave  her  fixed  contemplation  of 
the  past,  and  never  approached  her  without  being  lifted 
above  one's  self  by  veneration  and  tenderness. 

As  soon  as  the  news  of  the  Restoration  resounded  in 
St.  Petersburg,  society,  en  masse,  and  by  a  spontaneous 
impulse,  hastened  to  Count  Golowine's  to  congratulate  the 
Princess  de  Tarente,  and  rejoice  in  her  joy.  This  Restora- 
tion was  the  signal  for  her  return  to  France.  She  began 
immediately  to  prepare  for  her  departure,  but  with  a 
certain  moderation,  —  the  last  tribute  of  gratitude  towards 
her  friends.  The  Emperor  Alexander,  on  his  part,  desired 
to  assure  her  a  passage  on  board  a  man-of-war  which 
should  be  worthy  of  her  and  of  himself.  She  seemed  to 
be  touching  the  limit  of  all  her  soul's  sorrows  and  sacri- 
fices ;  but  it  was  an  everlasting  reward  which  she  was 
about  to  receive. 

The  eldest  daughter  of  Count  Golowine  has  kept  a 
faithful  and  very  affecting  journal  of  the  last  moments 
of  this  noble  life:1  — 

" '  Every  emotion  of  happiness  which  new  events  occasioned 
her  seemed,'  says  Mile.  Golowine,  '  to  mingle  physical  suffer- 
ing with  her  joy.  An  indescribably  sweet  melancholy  pervaded 
her  features.  We  had  never  seen  her  happy,  and  we  thought 
this  was  her  way  of  being  so.'" 

On  Ascension  Day,  May,  1814,  when  at  mass,  she  felt 
seriously  indisposed.  A  severe  chill  seized  her ;  and  this 


1  Prascovie  Golowine  married  Count  Fridero,  a  Pole,  aide-de-camp  of 
Prince  Poniatowski,  and  after  the  reconstruction  of  Poland,  in  1816, 
marshal  of  the  court  of  Warsaw.  Mme.  la  Comtesse  Fridero  has  long 
resided  in  France.  To  her  I  owe  the  communication  of  this  precious 
journal,  and  much  other  information.  The  friends  of  Mme.  Swetchine 
should  be  unspeakably  grateful  to  her. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  125 

accident — the  day  and  the  place  —  appeared  to  her  like 
a  warning. 

"  'Before  leaving  us  for  ever,1  resumes  Mile.  Golowine,  'she 
must  needs  give  us  an  example  of  the  sole  virtue  which  she  had 
not  yet  been  called  upon  to  practise.  During  all  the  course 
of  her  malady,  her  goodness  never  failed.  She  had  not  the 
self-conscious  delicacy  of  the  world,  which,  under  the  specious 
pretext  of  sparing  others  fatiguing  cares,  would  conceal  the 
sufferings  of  that  body  on  which  we  set  so  high  a  value.  She 
submitted  to  the  most  painful  prescriptions  with  that  simplicity 
which  was  a  part  of  her  nature,  and  which  everywhere  made 
her  at  home  with  all  that  is  good.  She  always  had  that  kindly 
forethought  which  understands  the  means  of  giving  pleasure. 
Several  times  she  praised  me  in  my  father's  presence,  endeavor- 
ing to  compensate  me  by  his  gratification  for  the  sacrifice  which 
she  regretted  to  impose.  Every  time  my  father  entered  her 
chamber  and  approached  her  bed,  she  received  him  with  as 
much  politeness  as  if  she  had  been  in  full  health,  and  never 
once  failed  to  concern  herself  about  the  place  where  he  would 
be  most  comfortable.' " 

One  morning,  guided  by  a  thoughtful  affection,  the  Count 
and  Countess  Golowine  sent  to  the  Princess's  room  a  lily 
in  full  flower.  The  invalid  contemplated  it  fondly,  clasped 
her  hands,  and  cried,  "  Dear  lilies,  may  Heaven  always  pro- 
tect you ! " 

Father  Rosaven  bestowed  upon  her,  with  deep  tender- 
ness, all  the  consolations  of  his  ministry.  In  the  intervals 
of  his  visits,  Mme.  de  Tarente  had  Mile.  Golowine  read  to 
her  holy  books  and  prayers.  She  was  particularly  moved 
as  she  listened  to  the  prayer  for  patience.  The  first  day 
they  read  it  to  her  entire ;  but,  perceiving  that  it  specified 
many  kinds  of  patience,  she  said  on  the  morrow,  "  My 
child,  only  read  the  part  about  sickness :  I  have  no  injuries 
to  forgive."  —  "And  yet,"  replied  Mile.  Golowine,  "you 
have  many  wrongs  to  forget."  —  "  No,"  answered  the  wor- 
thy friend  of  Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette,  "no  one 


126  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

has  wronged  me ;  or,  if  I  had  forgotten  it,  this  is  not  the 
moment  to  renew  the  remembrance." 

When  they  heard  her  speak  thus,  and  hold  unceasing 
communion  with  her  God,  they  lost  all  hope  of  keeping 
her  long  on  earth.  "  But,"  adds  Mile.  Golowine,  in  her 
pious  narrative,  "  I  never  ceased  to  listen  to  her ;  and  I 
would  rather  have  followed  than  detained  her ! " 

When  Father  Rosaven,  after  having  administered  ex- 
treme unction,  exhorted  her  once  more  to  an  utter  renun- 
ciation of  earthly  ties,  she  replied  with  energy,  "  My  God ! 
thou  knowest  that  I  long  ago  sacrificed  to  thee  what 
I  held  dearest,  —  the  happiness  of  seeing  my  king  in  his 
native  land."  These  words  were  almost  the  last  which 
her  dying  lips  were  able  to  articulate  distinctly ;  and,  after 
a  brief  agony  of  a  few  hours,  she  expired  on  the  22d  of 
June,  1814. 

It  was  Count  Golowine's  wish,  that  her  remains,  at  least, 
should  not  be  detained  in  exile.  The  Russian  physicians 
proceeded  to  embalm  her ;  and  that  heart,  so  profoundly 
French,  came  to  France,  to  rest  in  the  chapel  of  Videville, 
under  the  guardianship  of  the  last  of  the  Chatillon, — her 
sister,  the  Duchess  of  Uzes. 

The  Princess  de  Tarente  followed  a  rule  of  spiritual 
life  which  had  been  given  her  by  the  Bishop  of  Boulogne. 
This  code,  which  embraced  and  provided  for  the  slightest 
actions  of  every  day,  was  communicated  to  Mme.  Swet- 
chine,  and  copied  in  full  in  her  own  hand  into  the  volume 
of  M.  de  Saint  Priest,  together  with  several  eloquent  and 
fervent  prayers.  The  whole  is  prefaced  by  these  lines : 
"  Copied  from  a  little  note-book  in  the  handwriting  of  the 
Princess  de  Tarente,  and  found  among  her  papers.  Copied 
on  the  15th  of  August,  1815,  at  Bariatinski  House." 

Sundry  notes  from  Count  de  Maistre,  carefully  preserved 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  127 

by  Mme.  Swetchine,  are  evidently  to  be  referred  to  the 
same  epoch,  although  many  of  them  have  no  dates :  — 

The  anxiety  I  have  endured  on  your  account,  madame, 
can  hardly  be  expressed.  They  said  to  me,  at  your  door, 
Otchen  ne  khorocho.1  It  did  not  need  so  much  as  that  to  put 
me  in  the  same  case.  I  trembled  in  all  my  limbs,  lest  your 
indisposition  should  become  an  illness.  The  fears  of  all 
your  friends  are  quieted ;  but  I  should  thank  you  for  your 
courtesy,  if  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  relieve  me,  in  particular, 
of  these  alanns  in  future.  It  was  with  the  most  lively  and 
tender  disquiet,  madame,  that  I  haunted  your  door  for  informa- 
tion about  your  health.  I  regard  in  the  light  of  lost  moments 
those  in  which  we  stood  somewhat  in  awe  of  one  another, 
and  seek  to  indemnify  myself  for  them  by  the  fulness  of  love  and 
confidence  that  I  owe  you.  On  your  side,  madame,  you  will 
do  as  you  please :  but  I  also  count  a  little  on  your  indulgent 
kindness ;  for  I  would  neglect  nothing  which  might  help  to 
maintain,  in  its  integrity,  an  attachment  which  I  prize  so  highly, 
and  by  which  I  am  so  infinitely  honored. 

Since  I  became  androgynous,  I  have  necessarily  been  a 
trifle  dissipated.  This  evening,  I  am  going  to  a  ball.  It  is  the 
thing  I  dread  most  on  earth,  after  a  cold  bath ;  but,  when  one 
is  of  both  sexes,  one  must  dance.  Previously,  I  shall  dine  with 
the  Princess  Belosselski  and  twenty-five  or  thirty  particular 
friends.  But,  still  earlier,  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  paying  my 
respects  to  you  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock,  and  of  telling 
you,  by  word  of  mouth,  a  part  at  least  of  what,  in  my  own 
opinion,  I  am  expressing  here  so  feebly.  My  whole  seraglio 
embraces  you  tenderly :  you  are  often  spoken  of  here,  and  in 
the  highest  terms,  I  assure  you. 


Tuesday,  3d. 

The  Tuesdays  pass,  madame,  and  the  Fridays  follow  them, 
and  you  are  not  at  home.  What  are  you  doing  inside  your 
cage?  When  I  reflect,  that  yesterday  we  could  not  linger, 
after  dinner,  upon  the  terrace  of  M.  le  Baron  Blom,  I  fear  that 
you  are  pierced  and  transpierced  by  the  sea  wind.2  I  do  not 
see  that  you  have  in  your  vicinity  a  single  person  capable  of 
being  either  your  mi,  sol,  or  do.  Now,  when  one  string 
sounds  alone,  it  may  be  as  pure  and  sonorous  as  you  please ; 

1  Not  at  all  well. 

2  An  allusion  to  Peterhof,  which  is  situated  on  the  seashore. 


128  LIFE   OP   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

but  it  will  never  be  music.  You  see,  madame,  that,  even  in  a 
note,  I  cannot  help  foiling  into  metaphysics.  But  there  is  no 
metaphysics  about  the  friendship  which  constantly  takes  me  to 
your  cage,  and  makes  me  dread  all  the  winds  (draughts  and 
other)  of  the  land  and  sea.  His  Excellency,  M.  le  General 
Rodolphe,  is  going  to-day  to  take  leave  of  the  Strellanians.1 
I  charge  him  with  this  billet ;  and  I  charge  him  still  more 
strongly  to  see  you  face  to  face,  if  possible,  and  bring  me 
news  of  you,  which  will  not  prevent,  in  case  your  beneficent 
hand  should  make  me  a  present  of  a  few  lines,  my  receiving 
them  with  gratitude.  Still,  I  do  not  ask  for  them ;  for  I  do  not 
want  to  weary  you. 

I  am  leading  here  the  life  with  which  you  are  familiar.  It 
has  some  agreeable  interiors ;  but  the  rest,  —  ne  vaut  pas  le 
diable,  and  I  don't  see  the  slightest  gleam  on  the  horizon. 
The  chain  of  destiny  leads  him  who  obeys,  and  drags  him  who 
resists  it.  Let  us  advance  with  a  good  grace,  only  praying 
that  we  may  be  allowed  to  halt  whenever  we  encounter  some 
good  fortune  on  our  way ;  as,  for  instance,  a  cage  inhabited  by 
a  bird  like  Sophie,  whom  I  love  and  venerate  with  all  my 
heart. 

Apropos,  madame,  if  it  was  proposed  to  pay  you  a  visit 
with  the  ambassador,  for  instance,  what  time  would  suit  you 
best?2  Here,  madame,  is  a  small  treatise,  which  is  presented 
to  you  as  a  friend  of  the  house.  I  wish  that,  under  this  miti- 
gated form,  it  might  obtain  a  new  reading  from  you. 

Have  you,  dear  madame,  the  treaty  of  the  30th  of  May  ? 
There  is  your  friend  declared  an  alien  to  France,  to  Savoy, 
and  to  Piedmont.3  We  shall  see  whether  Providence  has  m 
store  any  unexpected  compensation.  I  am  prepared  for  any 
thing ;  and  I  am  particularly  prepared  not  to  be  astonished  at 


1  Strelna  is  an  imperial  pleasure-house,  around  which  are  grouped 
some  elegant  residences,  occupied  by  personages  of  the  court  and  their 
families. 

2  The  ambassador  of  Naples  is  meant,  the  Duke  of  Serra-Capriola, 
with  whom  Count  de  Maistre  was  very  intimate,  and  in  perfect  intel- 
lectual sympathy.     This  colleague  of  M.  de  Maistre  was  the  only  one  to 
whom  he  confessed  (as  we  see  in  this  note  in  which  they  are  also  confided 
to  Mine.  Swetchine)  his  incessant  trials  with  the  court  of  Sardinia.     • 

8  By  the  treaty  of  1814,  Chauibdry  remained  with  France,  and  M.  de 
Maistre  continued  ambassador  of  the  King  of  Sardinia.  Savoy  was 
restored  to  the  sceptre  of  the  King  of  Sardinia,  only  by  the  treaty  of 
1815. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  129 

any  thing.  Meanwhile,  I  have  asked,  with  fresh  importunities, 
to  be  allowed  to  remain  where  I  am ;  but  the  thing  appears  to 
me  so  just,  so  reasonable,  and  so  natural,  that,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  quite  despair  of  it. 

What  think  you  of  the  death  of  that  poor  Princess  de 
Tarente  ?  Yesterday,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  after  an 
extraordinary  illness,  she  left  us  for  heaven,  where  she  will 
meet  again  Moreau  and  Rapatelle :  for  the  laws  of  Menu,  the 
son  of  Brahma,  in  whom  I  believe  with  all  my  heart,  assure  us 
that  all  soldiers  dying  on  the  field  of  battle  are  certain  of  sal- 
vation. We  may  say  with  truth,  that  Providence  is  convoking 
a  new  assembly,  and  dismissing,  one  after  another,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  old.  Ah,  how  little  he  needs  us !  The  Princess 
fulfilled  her  duty  perfectly ;  yet  she  believed,  like  so  many  in- 
valids, that  she  had  not  yet  reached  the  end  of  life.  You  may 
rely  on  this.  Those  of  the  St.  Petersburg  ladies  who  are  most 
learned  in  medicine  (and  there  are  a  good  many  of  them) ,  say 
that  it  was  a  very  bad  thing  to  consult  only  three  English 
physicians,  —  Rogerson,  Chrigton,  and  Leygton,  —  since  phy- 
sicians of  the  same  nation  never  contradict  each  other,  and  it 
is  quite  like  having  only  one ;  whereas  a  German  would  have 
pulled  her  through  (perhaps  !) .  Upon  this  point,  however, 
madame,  as  on  so  many  others,  I  am  quite  of  your  mind. 

This  death  will  have  a  great  influence  on  the  household  that 
witnessed  it.  They  carried  the  Princess  from  the  room  which 
you  know,  into  the  library.  She  had  the  best  attendance, 
as  you  may  imagine ;  but  care  and  medicine  were  alike  useless. 
She  died  at  the  age  of  fifty  precisely,  and,  what  is  very  sin- 
gular, at  the  very  moment  when  nature  was  calling  her  for 
the  la^t  time  by  her  nom  de  femme. 

The  last  offshoot  of  the  house  of  Chatillon  dies  at  St. 
Petersburg,  while  the  King  of  France,  stiffened  by  the  gout,  is 
supported  upon  the  arm  of  his  cousin.  Such  is  the  law. 
Rome  perishes ;  all  things  change ;  every  thing  is  precipitated 
towards  the.  mighty  ocean. 

"  Et  rien  afin  que  tout  dure, 
Ne  dure  dternellement."  * 

It  was  Malherbe  who  said  that ;  and  it  is  not  so  bad. 

Adieu,  a  thousand  times,  dear  madame !  If  you  believe 
that  we  are  becoming  used  to  your  absence,  you  deceive  your- 
self gravely.  I  am  mortally  tried,  and  mortally  isolated.  It 


1  "And  that  the  universe  may  endure,  no  one  thing  endures  for 
ever." 

9 


130  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

seems  to  me  that  my  berth  is  getting  uneasy,  and  that  I  am 
not  wanted  here.  Ah !  if  I  must  needs  go  somewhere,  I 
am  ready  to  go  with  Mme.  de  Tarente.  I  have  nothing  more 
to  say.  Accept,  madame,  my  sincere  and  affectionate  homage. 
Many  compliments  to  good  Nadinka.  What  do  you  think  of 
the  state  of  her  health  ? 

Count  de  Maistre  was  not  deceived  in  his  presentiment 
of  the  influence  which  the  sight  of  a  beautiful  life  and 
death  would  exert  over  a  family  worthy  of  so  lofty  a  les- 
son. The  Princess  de  Tarente  discharged  her  debt  of 
hospitality,  by  leaving  behind  her  the  worship  of  the  true 
faith  united  to  the  worship  of  her  memory.1 

More  than  fifty  years  afterward,  Mme.  Swetchine,  in 
her  turn,  received  the  affectionate  hospitalities  of  the 
feudal  castle  of  Fleury,  which  had  passed  from  the  hands 
of  the  Prince  de  Tarente  into  those  of  his  nephew,  the 
Prince  de  Talmont,  and  the  Countess  Larochejacque- 
lein.  It  was  there  that  Mme.  Swetchine  addressed  to  the 
author  of  the  journal  of  Mme.  de  Tarente's  last  moments 
the  following  lines :  — 

TO  THE  COUNTESS  FRIDERO. 

FLEURT. 

MY  DEAR  PACHE,* — You  must  be  very  lonely  without  your 
son.  I  do  not  doubt  that  you  rule  your  lonely  state  with  cour- 
age ;  but  he  who  speaks  of  ruling  implies  coercion,  and  sug- 
gests something  which,  for  that  very  reason,  has  not  the  charm 
of  the  running  stream.  In  a  little  apartment  occupied  by  the 
Princess  Talmont,  and  which  they  had  occasion  to  open  the 
other  day,  I  was  moved  to  see,  among  the  pictures  which 
adorned  the  walls,  the  interior  of  the  library  Rue  de  la  Per- 
spective, with  the  inscription,  "Mme.  la  Princesse  de  Tarente, 
in  the  cabinet  of  Mme.  la  Princesse  Golowine."  These  relics 
of  the  past  are  always  affecting.  Adieu,  my  dear  Pache !  My 
best  love. 


1  The  second  son  of  Countess  Fridero  embraced,  in  France,  the  ecclesi- 
astical profession. 

2  Pache  is  a  familiar  derivative  of  Prascovie. 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  131 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Conversion  of  Mme.  Swetchine. 

WE  have  now  arrived  at  the  epoch  when  Mme.  Swet- 
chine formed  the  determination  of  resolving  her 
doubts  by  a  course  of  searching  study,  which  issued  in 
her  acceptance  of  the  Catholic  faith. 

The  life  of  St.  Petersburg,  crowded  as  it  was  for  Mme. 
Swetchine  by  numerous  family  cares  and  benevolent  en- 
gagements, which  she  neither  could  nor  would  evade,  was 
incompatible  with  the  laborious  research  in  which  she 
longed  to  engage.  The  General's  health  had  been  tempo- 
rarily impaired :  he  was  entering  upon  his  sixtieth  year ; 
and,  though  phlegmatic  by  nature,  he  felt  keenly  every 
absence  of  Mme.  Swetchine.  The  Princess  Gargarin  was 
devoted  to  the  education  of  her  five  children,  and  could 
not  leave  St.  Petersburg.  Mme.  Swetchine  therefore 
sought  to  accomplish  her  object  without  putting  between 
herself  and  her  loved  ones  a  distance  which  would  involve 
complete  separation.  One  of  the  noted  men  of  Russia, 
Prince  Bariatinsky,  possessed  a  country-seat  which  went 
by  the  name  of  Bariatinsky  House,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  St.  Petersburg,  and  agreeably  situated  on  the  shore  of 
the  Gulf  of  Finland.  Mme.  Swetchine  obtained  from 
Prince  Bariatinsky  the  rent  of  this  peaceful  and  pic- 
turesque dwelling,  and  retired  thither  in  the  early  days 
of  June,  1815,  accompanied  only  by  her  adopted  daughter, 
Nadine,  and  a  carefully  selected  library,  which  she  pro- 
posed to  exhaust. 


132  LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

A  small  number  of  friends  received  her  confidence. 
Count  de  Maistre  was  in  the  first  rank  of  the  initiated ; 
but  he  refused  her  his  approbation.  He  disliked  the  plan, 
and  doubted  its  effect.  The  volume  of  correspondence 
published  by  his  son  contains  a  long  letter  in  which  M.  de 
Maistre  sums  up  his  objections  with  eloquent  frankness:  — 

"Never,  madame,"  he  wrote  on  the  31st  of  July,  1815, 
"  never  will  you  reach  the  goal  by  the  way  which  you  have 
taken  :  you  will  be  overwhelmed  by  fatigue  ;  you  will  groan  in 
spirit,  but  without  unction  and  without  consolation ;  you  will 
be  a  prey  to  an  indescribable  dry  anguish,  which  will  rend  your 
heart-strings,  one  after  another,  but  never  relieve  either  your 
conscience  or  your  pride. 

"At  present,  you  are  reading  Fleury,  who  was  condemned 
by  the  sovereign  pontiff,  that  you  may  know  exactly  what  doc- 
trine to  hold  concerning  his  sovereignty.  That  is  very  well, 
madame ;  but,  when  you  have  finished,  I  advise  you  to  read 
the  refutation  of  Fleury,  by  Dr.  Marchetti.  Then  you  will 
read  Frebonius  against  the  Roman  see,  and  subsequently,  in 
the  capacity  of  a  judge  who  hears  both  parties,  the  Anti-Fre- 
bonius  of  the  Abbe"  Zacharia, — there  are  only  eight  volumes 
octavo :  that  is  nothing !  Then,  if  you  take  my  advice, 
madame,  you  will  learn  Greek,  that  you  may  know  precisely 
what  is  meant  by  that  famous  hegemony  which  St.  Irenseus 
attributed  to  the  Romish  Church  in  the  third  century,  in  ac- 
cordance with  ancient  tradition :  you  will  want  to  know,  in 
short,  whether  the  word  signifies  the  pre-eminence  of  the  Romish 
Church  or  the  supremacy  of  the  Romish  Church,  or  the  prin- 
cipality of  the  Romish  Church  or  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Ro- 
mish Church,  &c.  The  celebrated  Cardinal  Orsi  undertook  to 
refute  Fleury,  and  found  so  many  errors  in  him,  that  he  deter- 
mined to  write  a  new  history  of  the  Church ;  being  of  the 
opinion  that  a  good  history  is  the  best  refutation  of  a  bad  one. 
He  began  upon  his  new  history,  and  died  at  the  twentieth 
quarto  volume,  which  does  not  complete  the  sixth  century. 
You  must  read  this  too,  madame,  I  assure  you,  or  you  will 
never  find  peace." 

Count  de  Maistre  supposed  himself  to  be  uttering  a 
defiance.  He  was  but  tracing  a  programme  which  was 
followed  in  detail.  During  the  brief  days  and  intermin- 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  133 

able  nights  of  the  Russian  autumn  and  winter,  Mme. 
Svvetchine  was  unceasingly  occupied  in  examining  the 
most  contradictory  documents,  which  she  had  laboriously 
amassed  in  advance.  She  ascended  to  the  sources  of  his- 
tory ;  she  compared  dates ;  she  studied  languages ;  over 
and  above  all,  she  gave  her  soul  to  prayer.  The  Princess 
Alexis  Galitzin,  already  a  Catholic,  had  composed  an  in- 
vocation to  God,  in  which  she  interceded  for  the  conver 
sion  of  her  friend ;  and  this  prayer  she  had  repeated  daily, 
ever  since  the  10th  of  January,  1810. 

Of  the  innumerable  elements  which  entered  into  her  con- 
version, one  only  has  been  preserved  to  us  intact, — the  one 
which,  of  all  others,  exercised  the  most  enlightening  and 
subduing  influence  upon  her  mind,  —  Fleury.  Bossuet 
was  also  one  of  her  favorite  authors ;  and,  in  the  album 
of  M.  de  Saint  Priest,  we  find  a  long  extract  from  a  dis- 
course on  the  unity  of  the  Church,  bearing  this  date : 
"Sept.  2,  1815.  Bariatinsky  House." 

The  searching  analysis  of  Fleury,  in  which  she  engaged, 
may  be  found  entire  in  a  folio  volume  of  four  hundred  and 
fifty  pages,  filled  with  the  closest  and  finest  of  her  writing. 
This  volume,  like  all  the  rest,  consists  of  separate  note- 
books, subsequently  bound  together,  and  bears  the  title, 
"  The  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Fleury ;  comprising  in 
twenty-four  volumes  the  thirty-six  of  the  Paris  edition. 
Caen." 

Her  exquisite  good  sense  had  early  taught  her,  that  the 
question  at  issue  between  the  Latin  and  Greek  churches 
was  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  question  of  doctrine,  but,  pri- 
marily and  pre-eminently,  an  historical  question.  She 
therefore  analyzed  most  carefully  the  acts  of  the  principal 
oecumenical  councils  assembled  in  the  East;  noting  par- 
ticularly whatever  in  those  acts  attested  most  clearly  the 


134.  LIFE    OP   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

supremacy  of  the  pope.  Her  attention  was  also  directed 
to  the  history  of  Photius,  —  his  intrusion  into  the  see 
of  Constantinople,  his  deposition,  his  restoration ;  and  to 
the  overwhelming  proof,  incidentally  furnished  by  these 
events,  that  the  authority  of  the  sovereign  pontiffs  was 
recognized  and  accepted  at  Constantinople.  Through  this 
historic  labyrinth,  a  guide  was  indispensable ;  and  Mme. 
Swetchine  desired  one  who  should  be  impartial;  and,  as 
far  as  might  be,  respected  by  both  parties.  She  was  con- 
fident of  finding  this  union  of  qualities  in  Fleury.  Plato, 
the  celebrated  Archbishop  of  Moscow,  lauded  him  to  the 
skies ;  the  Protestants  spoke  of  him  with  respect ;  and  he 
was  not  absolutely  rejected  by  the  Catholics. 

The  parts  of  her  works  are  so  closely  interdependent, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  detach  any  thing  from  it ;  but  per- 
haps the  volume  in  its  entirety  may  one  day  be  published 
with  profit,  and  dedicated  to  the  whole  Russian  nation. 
Only  the  mottoes  and  some  marginal  notes  will  be  intro- 
duced here,  since  they  give  some  clew  to  her  intellectual 
preferences,  and  the  passages  on  which  her  thought  loved 
to  dwell. 

The  motto  on  the  first  note-book  is :  — 

"  Doubt  is  always  ignorance." 

The  motto  on  the  second  is  in  the  English  language :  — 

"  To  take  up  half,  and  half  on  trust  to  try, 
Name  it  not  faith,  but  bungling  bigotry." 

Several  passages  are  accompanied  by  marginal  notes  or 
braces  in  pencil.  Some  of  these  notes  dispute  the  text ; 
others  complete  it.  In  the  second  book,  Mme.  Swetchine 
marks  with  a  pencil-line  the  following  definition  of  faith : 

"  Faith  is  a  compendious  knowledge  of  the  most  necessary 
truths.  Science  is  a  conclusive  demonstration  of  what  we 


LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  135 

have  learned  by  faith.  Philosophy  is  a  preparation  for  the 
faith  on  which  science  is  founded.  Saint  Clement  says  that  it 
is  weakness  to  fear  pagan  philosophy.  The  faith  which  can 
be  shattered  by  such  arguments  is  very  fragile.  Truth  is  im- 
pregnable :  error  destroys  itself." 

Motto  of  the  third  book :  — 

"  The  first  truth  which  it  is  necessary  to  believe  is,  that  we 
must  believe  nothing  lightly." — Tertullian. 

In  the  third  book,  there  is  a  peculiar  mark  appended  to 
the  following  lines.  It  is  easy  to  understand  that  they  had 
a  poignant  application  for  Mme.  Swetchine. 

Tertullian  says  of  Christian  marriage:  — 

"  The  blessing  of  the  Church  is  its  seal.  The  angels  carry  it 
to  the  heavenly  Father  for  ratification.  Two  believing  souls 
bear  the  same  yoke  :  they  are  one  fiesh  and  one  mind.  They 
pray,  they  bow,  they  fast  in  company.  They  instruct  and 
exhort  one  another :  they  are  together  in  the  church,  at  the 
Lord's  table,  in  persecution,  in  consolation.  They  conceal 
nought  from  one  another:  they  do  not  weary  one  another. 
They  may  visit  the  sick  freely ;  give  alms  without  constraint ; 
take  their  share  of  sacrifices  without  anxiety.  They  sing 
psalms  and  hymns  together,  and  incite  one  another  to  the 
praise  of  God." 

Pencil-mark :  — 

"The  fear  of  renouncing  pleasure  deters  more  persons 
from  Christianity  than  the  fear  of  death." 

Pencil-mark :  — 

"  The  Lord  says  in  the  Gospel,  '  I  am  the  truth,'  and  not, 
'  I  am  the  custom.'  " 

Marginal  note:  — 

"  How  many  times  have  we  seen  the  destruction  of  religion 
ready  to  be  consummated !  —  and,  after  each  severer  test,  she 
rises  again,  grander,  stronger,  more  majestic  than  before.  I 
am  not  sure  that  there  are  not  as  many  proofs  of  her  divinity 
in  her  combats  as  in  her  victories. 

"  A  young  Roman  virgin,  Theodora,  had  resisted  outrage, 
and  was  condemned  to  death.  A  Christian,  named  Didymus, 


136  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

enters  her  prison,  disguised  as  a  soldier,  and  releases  her. 
The  pretor  causes  Didymus  to  be  seized,  and  led  to  execution. 
Theodora  learns  it,  and  immediately  presents  herself  to  the 
executioner  to  dispute  his  right  to  the  martyr.  '  It  is  I,'  said 
Didymus,  '  who  was  condemned.'  '  But  I,'  said  Theodora, 
'  will  not  be  guilty  of  your  death.  I  consented  that  you  should 
save  my  honor,  but  not  my  life.  I  fled  from  disgrace,  not 
death.  If  you  had  deprived  me  of  martyrdom,  you  would 
have  wronged  me.'  The  prayers  of  both  were  granted :  they 
died  together." 

To  this  passage  is  appended  the  following  marginal 
note :  — 

"How  far  below  the  beauty  of  this  is  the  most  touching 
incident  of  pagan  antiquity !  The  generous  devotion  of  Ores- 
tes and  Pylades  was  dictated  by  friendship  :  the  sorrow  of  sur- 
viving one  another  urged  them  to  it.  Here  we  have  nothing 
of  the  human  me,  nor  of  its  duality,  which  is  more  human  still, 
but  a  broad  and  warm  charity,  the  fruit  of  regeneration  and 
grace.  How  admirable  are  the  dialogues  of  the  martyrs  among 
themselves  or  with  their  judges  !  We  admire  Corneille  less  in 
Polyeuctes,  when  we  come  to  draw  from  the  sources  whence 
he  drew,  and  to  which  he  owes  his  most  magnificent  scenes. 
Many  minds  despise  the  simplicity  of  these  stories ;  and  yet,  be- 
side their  essential  sublimity,  they  contain  new  laws,  new  ideas, 
and  new  manners ;  and,  as  ever  in  the  early  days  of  nations 
and  of  institutions,  here  we  find  traces  of  that  eloquence  which 
the  lapse  of  ages  always  weakens.  Here  are  lightning-like 
flashes  of  thought  and  feeling,  nobility,  unstudied  power.  All 
which  can  lift  us  above  ourselves,  all  which  exalts  and  fortifies 
the  soul,  may  be  found  in  the  sublime  utterances  of  that  army 
of  martyrs  of  every  age  and  condition.  Oflen  eternity  inter- 
rupts them,  and  in  eternity  they  finish  the  canticle  of  thanks 
and  praise  which  they  began  in  tears  and  torture." 

Motto  of  the  sixth  book :  — 

"O  God  of  grace!  let  me  not  perish  in  the  vortex  of  my 
own  thoughts  ! "  —  Werner,  February  24ith. 

Pencil-mark  at  the  close  of  a  passage  on  the  Trinity: — 

"Human  knowledge  goes  no  further.  The  cherubim  cover 
the  rest  with  their  wings." 

Marginal  note :  — 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  137 

"  The  fragment  of  St.  Hilary  on  the  grounds  of  his  conver- 
sion appears  to  me  very  fine.     His  thoughts  are  linked  to- 
f  ether,  and  his  convictions  follow  unresistingly  along  the  swift 
eclivity  which  conducts  from  genuine  philosophy  to  true  re- 
ligion.    Christianity,  even  before  it  is  accepted,  is,  as  it  were, 
outlined  in  truly  noble  souls.     It  is  deposited  there  in  germ ; 
and  the  little  seed  grows  up  in  the  shadow  of  humility  to  be 
an  impenetrable  asylum  from  every  storm." 

Motto  of  the  eighth  book :  — 

"  There  were  no  vain  disputes  for  the  display  of  intellect, 
but  a  steady  investigation  of  truth."  —  Fleury,  speaking  of  St. 
Augustine  and  his  disciples. 

Pencil-mark :  — 

"Prudent  suggestions  for  those  who  would  hold  intercourse 
about  divine  things,  by  St.  Gregory  de  Nazianze :  '  Not  that 
we  should  not  always  think,  of  God :  we  should  think  of  him 
oftener  than  we  breathe ;  but  we  must  only  speak  of  him  at 
suitable  times.'" 

Motto  of  the  ninth  book :  — 

"  Sincere  effort  is  rewarded." —  Werner,  February  2ith. 

Pencil-mark :  — 

"  I  have  desired  to  illustrate  the  truth,  that  to  unite  politi- 
cal to  sacerdotal  power  is  to  blend  incompatibilities.  An- 
tiquity had  priests  who  were  judges.  The  Egyptians  and 
Hebrews  were  long  governed  by  their  priests ;  but,  in  my 
opinion,  since  this  divine  work  has  been  humanly  managed, 
God  has  separated  the  two  orders  of  life.  He  has  declared 
the  one  political,  and  the  other  sacred.  The  one  he  has  dedi- 
cated to  material  things ;  the  other,  to  himself.  Politicians 
are  to  devote  themselves  to  action ;  priests,  to  prayer.  Why 
would  you  join  what  God  has  put  asunder,  and  impose  on  us 
an  unsuitable  charge  ?  Do  you  need  protection  ?  Address 
yourself  to  him  who  administers  the  laws.  Do  you  need  God  ? 
Go  to  the  bishop." 

Motto  of  the  twelfth  book :  — 

"  God  draws  near  to  those  who  are  uninfluenced  by  passion, 
and  in  the  frame  of  mind  which  suits  him ;  but,  when  one  acts 
in  wrath,  how  can  the  Holy  Spirit  come  to  him  ?  that  Spirit 


138  LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

•which  passion  would  expel  even  from  a  soul  where  he  had 
previously  dwelt."  —  Synesius  to  Theophilus  of  Alexandria. 

Motto  of  the  thirteenth  book :  — 

"The  Church  must  light  its  candle  at  the  old  lamp."  — 
Waverley. 

Mark :  — 

"  St.  Gregory  to  Domitian,  who  had  been  to  Constanti- 
nople to  preach :  '  Though  I  am  grieved  that  the  Emperor  of 
Persia  is  not  converted,  it  does  not  diminish  my  joy  in  the  fact 
that  you  have  preached  to  him  the  faith  of  Christ ;  for  you  will 
have  your  reward.  The  Ethiopian  may  come  out  of  the  bath 
as  black  as  he  went  in ;  but  none  the  less  is  the  bath-keeper 
paid.' " 

Motto  of  the  fourteenth  book :  — 
"  True  faith  is  never  shaken." 

We  find  by  the  dates,  that  the  ardor  and  intensity  of  her 
work  redoubled  as  it  advanced.  The  books  in  the  second 
half  of  the  volume  follow  one  another  weekly.  From  the 
1st  to  the  25th  of  November,  Mme.  Swetchine  composed 
and  wrote  three  hundred  pages  of  enormous  size.  In  two 
days,  from  the  25th  to  the  27th  of  November,  she  wrote 
twenty-six. 

Motto  of  the  fifteenth  book,  8th  of  November,  1815. 

"Prejudice  sees  not  clearly;  but  aversion  sees  not  at  all." 
—  Letter  from  St.  Isidore  de  Peluse  to  St.  Cyril. 

Pencil-mark :  — 

"  As  to  images,  we  must  not  portray  what  has  never  been ; 
but  since,  in  the  incarnation  of  God,  all  was  real,  he  was  born, 
he  wrought  miracles,  he  suffered,  and  rose  again,  I  would  to 
God  that  heaven,  earth,  and  sea,  all  animals  and  all  plants, 
might  reiterate  these  marvels  in  speech,  in  writing,  and  in 
painting ! "  —  St.  Germain. 

Motto  in  the  sixteenth  book,  16th  of  November:  — 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  139 


THE  PATRIARCH  NICEPHORUS  TO  LEON   THE  ISAURIAN. 

My  lord,  do  not  disturb  the  order  of  the  Church.  The 
apostle  says  that  God  has  ordained  priests,  prophets,  apostles, 
teachers ;  but  he  does  not  speak  of  emperors. 

A  marginal  note  of  "  Admirable  discourse  "  is  appended 
to  the  following  passage :  — 

"When  Zacharia  was  ordained  Bishop  by  Photius,  he  desired 
to  reply.  The  Secretary  of  Constantine  then  mounted  the 
tribune,  and  read  a  long  discourse  in  the  Emperor's  name,  ex- 
horting schismatics  to  re-union.  '  Sound,'  said  he,  '  the  depths 
of  your  conscience,  and  you  will  find  that  you  did  wrong  to 
withdraw.  We  are  at  the  last  hour,  my  brethren :  the  Judge 
is  at  the  door ;  let  him  not  surprise  us  outside  his  church.  Let 
us  not  be  ashamed  of  revealing  our  malady  in  order  to  seek 
relief.  If  you  fear  this  mortification  so  much,  I  will  show  an 
example  of  self-abasement.  I  will  be  the  first  to  prostrate 
myself  upon  the  pavement,  despite  my  purple  and  my  diadems  : 
mount  upon  my  shoulders ;  walk  over  my  head  and  over  my 
eyes.  I  am  ready  to  suffer  all,  if  I  may  see  the  church  re- 
united, and  save  my  own  soul." 

Motto  of  the  eighteenth  book,  Nov.  25. 

"Truth  is  only  developed  in  the  hour  of  need:  time,  and 
not  man,  discovers  it."  —  Bonald. 

Motto  of  the  nineteenth  book,  Nov.  27. 

"  The  heavenly  hosts  have  only  one  will :  men  have  many." 
— Words  of  St.  Arsenus,  the  recluse. 

The  last  pencil-mark  is  appended  to  the  refutation  of  the 
fable  of  Pope  Joan. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  book,  we  read,  "  Finished  the  9th 
of  June,  1813."  On  the  last  page  of  the  completed  vol- 
ume, "  Dec.  4,  1815."  This  prodigious  compilation  was 
thus  undertaken  and  accomplished  in  the  space  of  six 
months. 

Before  Mme.  Swetchine  had  achieved  this  labor,  light 
dawned  upon  her  mind.  We  may  safely  say  that  truth 


140  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

never  won  a  more  complete  victory  over  a  heart  at  once 
more  sweet  and  more  refractory.  From  a  Christless  edu- 
cation, from  the  scepticism  which  shrouded  her  youth,  she 
did  not  arrive  by  a  single  leap  at  Catholicism.  Subdued, 
in  the  first  place,  by  the  proofs  which  establish  the  divinity 
of  Jesus  Christ  and  the  inspiration  of  the  gospel,  she 
began  by  the  submissive  and  loving  practice  of  the  Greek 
religion.  She  paused  then  to  consider  the  constitution  of 
the  church  universal,  the  organization  of  the  hierarchy, 
and  the  pre-eminence  of  St.  Peter's  successor.  Finally, 
she  comprehended,  that,  in  the  presence  of  two  separate 
and  mutually  exclusive  churches,  she  could  not  remain 
neutral ;  that  one  only  could  merit  the  sacred  title  of  the 
bride  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  that,  this  church  once  identified, 
it  was  necessary  to  belong  to  it.  Naturally  distrustful  of 
sects  and  innovators, — as  we  have  seen  in  her  correspond- 
ence with  Mile.  Stourdza, — instinctively  inclining  towards 
tradition,  she  could  not  long  endure  a  state  of  vague  and 
unsatisfactory  opinions  on  religious  subjects.  She  there- 
fore took  her  way  across  contradiction  and  doubt,  but 
without  precipitation,  by  measured  steps,  and  never  plant- 
ing her  foot  upon  the  earth  till  she  had  become  convinced 
of  its  solidity.  Once  introduced  to  the  heart  of  the  Catho- 
lic Church,  the  magnificent  organization  of  its  priesthood 
constantly  attracted  her  intellect,  and  transported  her  with 
admiration ;  and  she  more  than  once  expressed  her  aston- 
ishment, that  M.  Frayssinous,  in  his  lectures,  should  almost 
entirely  have  disregarded  it. 

The  papers  of  Mme.  Swetchine  have  been  vainly 
searched  for  a  record  or  precise  souvenir  of  her  conversion 
to  Catholicism.  Her  unwillingness  to  speak  of  herself, 
and  especially  to  adduce  herself  as  an  example,  doubtless 
deterred  her  from  making  such.  She  had  also  an  addi- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  141 

tional  motive,  originating  in  the  same  virtue.  With  a 
sincerity  and  depth  of  faith  which,  while  she  lived,  was 
never  for  an  instant  belied,  Mme.  Swetchine  always  attrib- 
uted the  good  in  herself  to  the  pure  grace  of  God  alone. 

We  should  thus  have  lost  all  trace  of  the  most  solemn 
and  precious  day  of  her  life,  if  her  constant  habit  of  inter- 
spersing the  notes  she  took  with  some  of  her  own  private 
thoughts  had  not  accidentally  surprised  and  fixed  a  con- 
fession. In  the  tenth  volume  of  her  collected  extracts, 
without  preparation  or  indication  of  any  sort,  we  read  as 
follows :  — 

BARIATINSKY  HOUSE,  Aug.  31,  1815. 

Happy  day !  when  the  darkness  of  my  mind  yielded  to  the 
fiat  lux  !  spoken  by  a  celestial  voice  in  the  depths  of  my  con- 
science. Cloudless  brightness  does  not  yet  pervade  my  soul ; 
but  the  harbinger  of  day  has  appeared,  and  has  shown  me  the 
patli  I  am  to  follow.  My  God !  thou  art  as  merciful  as  I  am 
obstinate.  My  God  !  thy  will  be  done.  Teach  me  not  merely 
to  submit  to  it,  but  to  love  it,  to  delight  in  it,  to  take  it  for 
the  sole  guide  of  my  actions  and  my  thoughts.  I  owe  to  thee, 
to-day,  the  first  moments  of  happiness  I  have  tasted  for  many 
years.  Thou  wilt  perpetuate  this  happiness,  O  compassionate 
Father !  if  only  to  encourage  me  in  my  sacrifice,  and  give  me 
strength  to  accomplish  it.  Inspire  me  :  it  is  thy  truth  I  seek. 
Thy  truth,  I  trust,  1  have  found  :  thy  truth  I  adore.  If  I  should 
go  astray  (oh,  let  me  die  sooner !  ),  may  a  miracle  of  thy  good- 
ness restore  me  to  the  frame  of  mind  from  which,  as  I  have 
reason  to  believe,  a  miracle  has  delivered  me.  O  God !  have 
compassion  on  my  sorrows  past,  on  the  sufferings  whose 
memory  is  almost  wiped  out  to-day,  on  the  hopes  which  sustain 
my  heart  at  this  moment.  I  feel  happy :  yes,  I  am  so.  Can 
it  be  transitory  ?  Shall  I  be  condemned  to  lose  the  faith  which 
thrills  me  ?  to  sink  once  more  into  dimness  and  uncertainty  ? 
Doubtless,  I  deserve  it ;  but,  O  my  God  !  dost  thou  regulate 
thy  favors  by  our  deserts  ?  dost  thou  not  rather  make  them 
infinite,  like  thyself  ?  I  throw  myself  into  thy  arms  !  I  beseech 
thee  !  I  offer  thee  my  tears  and  my  joy  !  Deign  to  enlighten 
me  fully,  and  inspire  me  with  the  desire  of  living  to  thee  alone, 
and  with  the  strength  I  need  to  remain  steadfast  to  this  resolu- 
tion. I  ask  it  in  the  name  of  thy  son.  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
By  his  cross  and  passion,  I  hope  to  obtain  it. 

Tuesday,  quarter  before  twelve. 


142  LIFE    OF   MADA.ME    SWETCHINE. 

A  note  of  similar  character,  left  loose  in  a  shapeless 
note-book  which  was  not  even  thought  worth  binding, 
gives  us  some  further  information.  The  note  is  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

My  last  Greek  communion,  on  the  20th  of  June,  1815,  in 
the  chapel  of  Peterhof,  was  partaken  with  the  sole  purpose  of 
disposing  of  my  remaining  hesitation.  God,  in  his  goodness, 
did  not  despise  my  choice  of  means ;  and,  on  the  27th  of  Octo- 
ber (8th  of  November) ,  in  the  same  year,  I  accomplished  my 
abjuration.  In  memory  of  the  aid  vouchsafed  me,  in  part,  by 
the  holy  apostles  Peter  and  Paul,  I  composed  the  following 
prayer  two  days  before  their  feast  at  Vichy,  which  I  attended 
in  1837  :  — 

"  O  holy  apostles,  Peter  and  Paul,"  &c. 

Finally,  in  the  twenty-fifth  volume  of  her  extracts,  be- 
tween this  thought  of  Mme.  de  Ranee,  "  So  act,  that 
your  fidelity  may  be  your  thank-offering,  and  your  works 
the  expression  of  your  faith,"  and  the  funeral  oration  of 
Daniel  O'Connell,  by  Father  Ventura,  we  read,  interlined 
in  minute  characters,  "Day  blessed  a  thousand -fold!  a 
beloved  anniversary  !  Tours,  1847,  the  8th  of  November." 

Neither  In  her  conversation  nor  her  correspondence  does 
she  afford  us  more  circumstantial  details.  Two  letters  to 
the  Duchess  de  Liancourt  contain  the  two  following  allu- 
sions merely.  The  Duchess  had  written  to  Mme.  Swet- 
chine  that  her  letters  reminded  her  of  Bossuet.  Mme. 
Swetchine  replies:  — 

"I  can  only  explain  what  you  say  of  me  by  my  passionate 
and  exclusive  admiration  of  Bossuet,  amounting  even  to  in- 
justice to  Fe*nelon.  All  my  life,  I  have  said,  that,  if  I  had  but 
one  crown,  I  would  give  it  to  Bossuet;  and,  of  this  hidden  fire, 
some  sparks  have  reached  you,  as  there  is  always  a  sort  of  rela- 
tion between  one's  own  adoration  and  the  object  of  one's  wor- 
ship." 

MY  VERY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  cannot  specify  the  precise 
date  at  which  one  becomes  sensible  of  a  disagreeable  tendency 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  143 

in  Floury.  At  the  time  when  I  read  him,  I  was  outside  the 
centre  of  unity.  The  more  delicate  shades,  which  ultimately 
are  seen  to  constitute  an  essential  part  of  truth,  escaped  me ; 
my  end  being  quite  special,  and  only  taking  me  as  far  as  the 
Council  of  Florence.  At  the  very  time  that  I  was  reaping  so 
much  benefit  from  the  book,  I  heard  a  great  deal  said  against 
it ;  but  my  confidence  remained  unshaken,  as  has  my  gratitude 
since.  This  by  no  means  proves,  even  to  me,  that  Fleury  is 
irreproachable ;  only  the  life  which  I  owe  him  establishes  an 
unquestionable  relation  of  parent  and  child  between  us.  It  is 
with  books  as  with  men,  the  good  they  do  cannot  be  adduced 
as  proof  that  they  are  faultless. 

The  prayer  to  the  apostles  has  not  yet  been  found ;  but 
two  meditations,  which  evidently  commemorate  the  same 
event,  have  been  preserved  just  as  they  were  first  thrown 
off,  as  is  evident  from  the  hasty  character  of  the  hand- 
writing, and  the  presence  of  two  or  three  superfluous  words. 

In  the  first  of  these  meditations,  we  find,  mingled  with 
personal  acknowledgments,  expressions  and  views  of  hers 
concerning  situations  which  had  come  under  her  observa- 
tion. The  second  meditation  concerns  herself  alone,  and 
contains  her  soul's  whole  history. 

"  There  is  a  species  of  sanctity  which,  by  virtue  of  its  regu- 
lar, balanced,  harmonious  character,  I  shall  call  classical.  This 
sanctity,  perfectly  self-poised  and  in  keeping,  its  present  a 
logical  sequence  of  its  past,  and  harmonious  in  all  its  elements, 
has  a  sphere,  a  spirit,  a  walk,  and  laws  of  its  own.  God  holds 

Erfect  sway  over  this  sort  of  sanctity :  he  rules  it  justly  and 
ndly,  and  has  pleasure  in  it,  as  in  the  most  perfect  image  of 
the  regular  and  immutable  laws  of  creation.  Another  kind 
of  holiness  there  is,  freer,  more  individual,  more  bold,  swifter 
in  its  flight,  more  ardent,  more  devoted,  more  self-aban- 
doned, it  may  be,  in  its  love.  It  is  the  holiness  to  which  those 
are  called  whom  I  should  name  the  children  of  Providence; 
those  whom  God  has  sought  out ;  whom  he  has  found  in  the 
midst  of  all  sorts  of  snares  and  perils  ;  whom  he  has  folded  in 
his  bosom,  as  if  to  shield  them  from  his  own  right  hand's  gesture 
of  dismissal.  A  piety  so  different  in  its  origin  (when  con- 
sidered in  reference  to  human  events  fructified  by  divine  grace) , 
so  dissimilar,  also,  in  its  vocation,  cannot  imply  a  perfect 


144  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

identity  of  duty.  Let  the  performance  of  prescribed  duties 
continue  to  be  the  soul  of  Christian  life  to  the  first ;  but  woe 
to  the  others,  if,  after  having  ignored  or  neglected,  in  all  their 
most  serious  relations,  reason,  prudence,  and  a  wise  and  care- 
ful moderation,  they  should  pretend  to  inaugurate  them  when 
they  enter  upon  the  spiritual  life !  Woe  to  them,  if.  after  hav- 
ing a  thousand  times  risked  or  compromised,  in  the  ardor  of 
their  merely  human  passions,  health,  fortune,  and  personal  con- 
sideration, they  should  begin  to  be  careful  of  these  things  when 
they  walk  in  God's  way ! " 

MEDITATION   ON   THE   GOOD   SHEPHERD. 

"  I  am  the  good  shepherd,  and  I  know  my  sheep,  and  am 
known  of  mine." 

"  /  am  the  good  Shepherd." 

"  Thou  givest  thyself  a  name,  O  God  !  to  our  softened  and 
believing  hearts.  Was  it  not,  then,  affecting  enough  for  them 
to  recognize  thee ;  to  designate  thee  as  their  compassionate 
Saviour,  their  only  Saviour  ?  But  thou  wouldest  that  thy  word 
should  confirm  thy  presence,  because  thy  presence  on  earth 
was  not  to  be  eternal,  like  thy  word.  I  am  the  Good  Shepherd. 
Yes :  shepherd,  and  at  the  same  time  God,  father,  master, 
mother,  friend,  and  brother,  of  these  poor  sheep,  who  will  hear 
no  voice  but  thine,  and  obey  no  other  crook." 

"  I  know  my  sheep" 

"O  Lord,  who  knowest  me,  what  dost  thou  see  in  me? 
What  seest  thou  there  that  does  not  merit  thy  reproof,  even  in 
the  good  with  which  thou  hast  endowed  me, — good  which  I  have 
let  perish,  and  become  corrupt,  although,  like  a  faithless  stew- 
ard, I  have  taken  no  account  thereof.  And  yet  I  love  thee, 
Lord :  yes,  I  love  thee.  It  would  be  a  false  humility  which 
should  deny  it.  But  is  it  not  still  thyself  who  hast  been  the 
first  to  move  my  soul  by  a  divine  look  ?  who  hast  plunged  me 
in  the  pool  to  purify  and  heal  me?  Hast  thou  not  called 
me  twice,  by  a  bitter  disgust  with  the  world,  and  by  the  authori- 
tative and  mighty  attraction  of  thy  grace  ?  What  part  have  I, 
then,  in  my  life,  such  as  it  is,  if  thou  takest  away  my  faith- 
lessness ?  " 

"And  am  knoum  of  mine.'1'1 

"Yes,  Lord,  thy  sheep  know  thee,  and  ask  to  know  thee 
still  better,  that  they  may  love  thee  more.  My  God !  not 
always  have  I  known  thee,  not  always  have  I  loved  thee.  It 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  145 

is  long,  happily  very  long,  since  thou  didst  come,  and  touch  my 
heart,  and  will  that  I  should  love  thee.  In  the  beginning,  it  was 
a  feeble  ray ;  now  it  is  a  great  sun.  It  was  first  a  grain  of 
mustard-seed,  which,  grown  into  a  mighty  tree,  protects  me 
with  its  shade,  and  gives  me  food  and  shelter.  For  a  time,  O 
my  Lord,  —  a  time  which  I  cannot  now  conceive,  —  thou  wert 
everywhere  as  now,  and  I  saw  thee  nowhere.  Yet  at  last  I 
had  glimpses  of  thee  amid  the  crowd  of  objects  which  hid  thee 
from  my  view,  and  soon  thy  adorable  head  lifted  itself  above 
others,  and  asserted  its  supremacy.  I  saw  it  —  that  divine 
head  —  dispensing  pity,  enduring  insult,  exposed  to  many  a 
blow.  Thy  divine  beauty,  the  malice  of  thine  enemies,  who 
were  also  those  of  virtue,  overpowered  me.  I  began  by  often 
turning  my  eyes  to  thine ;  then  oftener :  at  last,  I  removed 
them  no  more ;  but  that  dear  sight  became  inseparably  mingled 
with  all  others,  and  made  me  better  and  wiser.  I  had  advanced 
so  far,  and  thought  to  advance  no  farther,  when  it  came  to 
pass,  I  know  not  how,  that  one  day,  one  hour,  —  one  swift  and 
blissful  hour,  I  ceased  to  see  aught  besides  thee  !  O  my  God ! 
then  it  was,  in  thy  presence,  that  all  which  thou  wast  not 
appeared  imbittered  and  smitten  with  nothingness.  I  saw  my 
dear  Jesus  aright,  and  the  poor  sheep  knew  its  true  shep- 
herd ! " 


10 


146  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


CHAPTER    Vin. 

Mme.  Swetchine  has  occasion  publicly  to  profess  the  Catholic  faith.  —  Her 
departure  for  France. 

THE  Emperor  Alexander,  when  he  returned  to  his  do- 
minions, brought  back  some  new  and  salutary  impres- 
sions. His  soul  had  been  deeply  stirred  in  that  brief  interval 
of  years  by  great  disasters  and  great  victories,  great  sor- 
rows and  great  joys,  an  unparalleled  personal  triumph 
and  bitter  personal  trials.  God  moves  in  his  own  ways. 
Fascinated  at  first,  but  soon  fatigued  by  the  incoherent 
and  barren  predictions  of  Mme.  de  Kriideuer,  the  Emperor, 
nevertheless,  came  back  more  regular  and  serious  in  his 
private  life,  —  more  religious  in  theory,  but  more  troubled 
and  uncertain  than  ever  in  practice.  The  great  virtues 
of  the  Catholic  nations,  of  which  he  had  just  had  a  near 
view ;  the  heroic  endurance  of  the  Spaniards  ;  the  angelic 
purity  of  the  sovereign  pontiff,  Pius  VII. ;  the  noble  and 
sympathizing  qualities  of  France,  —  all  these  had  given 
him  occasion  to  reflect  upon  himself,  his  ancestry,  and  his 
country.  Still  he  hesitated  about  touching  the  knife  to 
the  sores  which  were  everywhere  revealed.  Like  most 
sovereigns,  and  especially  absolute  sovereigns,  he  had  to 
contend  against  the  prejudices  and  interested  passions 
of  those  about  him.  The  politicians  of  Russia  fought  for 
what  they  called  national  tradition.  The  light-minded  were 
either  concerned  or  bored  to  behold  their  master,  and 
consequently  their  model,  inclining  towards  what  they 
denominated  mysticism.  The  nearest  friends  of  Alex- 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  147 

ander,  who,  like  him,  were  ready  either  for  lively  or  serious 
impressions,  formed  themselves  into  bible-societies,  or 
dreamed  of  the  regeneration  of  their  native  land  by  the 
transforming  action  of  masonic  lodges.  Thus  statesmen, 
men  of  pleasure,  and  theorists,  all  clogged  and  opposed 
the  Emperor  in  his  strivings  after  truth. 

The  Catholics  now  became,  more  than  ever,  objects  of 
suspicion  at  the  court  of  Russia;  and  Mme.  Swetchine 
believed  it  her  duty,  in  the  first  instance,  to  sacrifice  to 
those  who  were  dear  to  her  the  public  profession  of  her 
faith.  Her  abjuration  was  made  in  secret.  Her  first  con- 
fession was  heard  by  Father  Rosaven,  in  a  saloon  with 
open  doors,  and  in  momentary  dread  of  a  surprise. 

She  supposed  herself  condemned,  for  an  indefinite  period, 
to  this  painful  mystery,  when  a  generous  and  spontaneous 
impulse  unexpectedly  freed  her  from  her  self-imposed  rule 
of  prudence. 

It  is  well  known,  that,  during  the  storm  which  burst  upon 
the  Jesuits,  hi  the  course  of  the  eighteenth  century,  Fred- 
eric of  Prussia  wrote  to  Voltaire,  that  he  was  preserving 
the  seed  of  the  order,  that  he  might  some  time  furnish  it 
to  those  who  should  desire  to  cultivate  so  rare  a  plant; 
and  that  the  Empress  Catharine  held  the  same  language, 
and  adopted  the  same  line  of  conduct.  On  the  death  of 
Frederic  II.,  his  successor  dispersed  the  Jesuits ;  but 
Catharine  collected  them  again,  and  soon  four  colleges 
— at  Polotsk,  at  Vitepsk,  at  Orcha,  and  at  Dunabourg — 
were  flourishing  under  their  direction.  Paul  testified  still 
greater  confidence  in  them  by  admitting  the  celebrated 
Father  Griiber  into  his  most  private  councils.  He  sum- 
moned the  Jesuits  to  St.  Petersburg,  placed  in  their  hands 
the  University  of  Vilna,  and  confided  to  their  care  the  col- 
onies of  the  Volga.  Alexander  continued  to  show  the  same 


148  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SAVETCHINE. 

favor  to  Griiber,  who  perished  the  victim  of  a  fire  on  the 
night  of  the  26th  of  March,  1806,  praying  for  the  prosperity 
of  his  order,  and  blessing  his  friend,  Count  de  Maistre, 
who  had  hastened  to  the  very  scene  of  the  catastrophe. 
Father  Thadeus  Bzrozowski,  who  was  elected  general  of 
the  order  in  his  stead,  continued  his  work.  Alexander 
opened  to  them  Siberia;  and  they  hastened  to  its  murder- 
ous deserts  for  the  consolation  of  the  exiles.  The  Duke 
de  Richelieu  and  the  Abbe  Nicolle  claimed  their  assistance 
at  Odessa ;  and  there  they  discovered  a  field  for  mis- 
sionary labor,  and  had  marvellous  success  in  inducing 
the  tribes  of  the  Chersonese  and  the  Crimea  to  accept  the 
blessings  of  Christian  civilization.  At  the  time  of  the  in- 
vasion of  Russia,  the  Jesuits  excited  the  veneration  of 
the  French  and  Russian  armies  alike,  by  the  aid  which 
their  zeal  lavished  impartially  on  the  wounded  of  all 
nations.  Napoleon  visited  them  at  Polotsk ;  and  the  sol- 
diers of  Marshal  Victor  and  Marshal  Gouvion  de  St.  Cyr, 
had  particular  reason  to  congratulate  themselves  on  their 
devotedness. 

"While  the  Jesuits  were  restricted  to  reconstructing  their 
society  with  the  remains  of  the  shipwreck,  the  Russian 
clergy  and  corps  of  instruction  took  little  umbrage  at 
them ;  but  when  the  favor  of  two  emperors,  and  their  own 
rapid  success,  had  placed  them  upon  a  broader  stage, 
jealousy  began  to  hatch  its  ordinary  plots. 

Count  de  Maistre,  who,  in  the  leisure  left  him  by  the 
duties  of  the  Sardinian  Legation,  considered  himself,  and 
justly,  the  ambassador  of  great  truths  to  a  great  nation 
and  a  sovereign  worthy  to  hear  them,  —  Count  de  Maistre 
took  up  the  pen,  and  refuted,  in  five  famous  letters,  ad- 
dressed to  the  Minister  of  Public  Instruction,  Count 
Rasoumowsky  himself,  the  accusations  and  insinuations 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  149 

which  incessantly  found  their  way  to  the  ears  of  Alex- 
ander. These  five  letters  created  an  immense  sensation: 
they  resulted  in  the  erection  of  a  new  university  in  the 
interest  of  the  Jesuits ;  but  this  triumph  was  their  last. 
Hostility  took  a  fresh  start  during  the  long  sojourn  of  the 
Emperor  in  Germany  and  France.  The  earth  was  mined 
under  the  feet  of  the  order.  Every  conversion  was  spied 
out,  and  signalized  as  an  act  of  infidelity  to  the  country 
and  treason  to  the  sovereign,  the  absolute  master  of 
consciences  as  of  hearts.  On  the  3d  of  January,  1816, 
a  first  ukase  was  extorted  with  Alexander's  signature, 
which  banished  the  Jesuits  from  St.  Petersburg  and  Mos- 
cow. "They  have,"  said  the  ukase,  naively,  "turned 
aside  from  our  worship  young  people  who  have  been  con- 
fided to  their  care,  and  certain  women  of  weak  and  incon- 
sequent minds"  Some  months  later,  the  proscription  was 
extended  to  the  whole  empire.  Schools  were  closed, 
missions  interdicted,  and  Russia  presented  to  Europe  the 
singular  spectacle  of  a  monarch  who  had  cast  his  sword 
into  the  balance  of  the  most  gigantic  of  conflicts,  and 
caused  his  voice  to  prevail  in  an  assembly  of  crowned 
heads,  but  who  did  not  hesitate  to  avow  his  dread  of  a 
few  religionists,  possessing  naught  in  his  empire  but  the 
right  to  live,  and  to  speak  of  God.  Russia,  under  two 
sovereigns  such  as  Catharine  and  Paul,  under  the  ma- 
levolent empire  of  the  prejudices  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, had  constituted  herself  the  shield  of  the  proscribed 
company;  but  at  the  epoch  of  universal  restoration,  when 
Russia  had  dictated  to  Europe  her  most  generous  thoughts, 
she  resumed  for  herself  the  narrowest  traditions  and  the 
most  arbitrary  blindness. 

This  situation  wrung  cries  of  anguish  from  Count  de 
Maistre. 


150  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"  Who  will  dare,"  he  wrote,1  "  speak  the  truth  to  him  who  is 
all  powerful,  and  who  has  never  heard  it  ? 

"  Russia  boasts  of  her  toleration,  and  allows  it  to  be  lauded; 
but  there  is  a  twofold  mistake.  Russia  tolerates  all  errors, — 
because  errors  are  always  friends  to  one  another,  and  ready  for 
a  mutual  embrace.  It  is  not  so  with  the  truth,  or  with  the 
Catholic  Church,  if  you  will, — which 'is  nothing  less  than 
tolerated. 

"  Certain  very  knowing  individuals  pretend  that  the  Emperor 
of  Russia  —  disgusted  by  the  religious  scandals  at  Vienna  — 
has  contracted  an  incurable  prejudice  against  the  Catholic 
religion.  In  one  sense,  the  Prince  was  right,  if  the  report 
is  true  ;  for,  unhappily,  these  scandals  are  only  too  well  founded. 
But  he  needed  a  courageous  minister  at  his  side  capable  of 
saying,  '  You  think,  sire,  that  you  see  Catholicism.  You  see 
only  the  absence  of  it.  You  see  the  work  of  Joseph  II.  With 
the  fatal  impatience  and  impetuosity  of  an  inexperienced  young 
man,  he  undermined  the  power  of  the  sovereign  pontiff'  in  his 
dominions.  You  see  the  result.  There  is  hardly  more  religion 
at  Vienna  than  at  Geneva,  or  than  there  will  be  in  your  own 
realm  when  certain  forces  which  you  choose  to  ignore  shall 
have  received  their  full  development.' 

"There  is  no  truth  more  indisputable  than  this:  In  the 
present  state  of  the  human  mind  in  Europe,  Christianity  can 
only  be  defended  by  the  Catholic  principle,  which  refers  all  to 
authority. 

"But  how  can  this  principle  be  developed,  if  the  courts  per- 
sist in  their  blindness?  In  one  sense  we  may  say  that  all 
princes  are  dethroned,  since  there  is  not  one  who  reigns  as  did 
his  father  and  grandfather  before  him;  and  since  the  sacred 
character  of  kingship  is  daily  becoming  weakened  in  propor- 
tion to  the  growth  of  the  irreligious  principle,  no  one  can  yet 
foresee  the  extent  of  the  misfortune  with  which  Europe  is 
threatened. 

"  There  is  an  inflexibility  in  the  teachings  of  the  Catholic 
Church  which  is  displeasing  to  temporal  authority.  The  latter 
does  not  feel  herself  mistress,  or  sufficiently  mistress,  in  the 
presence  of  another  power  which  she  cannot  control  at  will.  .  .  . 
She  does  not  heed  the  fact,  that  this  independence  and  ascen- 
dency are  the  natural  and  necessary  characteristic  of  truth,  — 
that  where  they  are  not,  it  is  not.  What  prince  ever  dreamed 
of  combating  mathematics  ?  " 


1  Letter  to  the  Marquis ,  on  the  state  of  Christianity  in  Europe. 


LIFE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  151 

In  yielding  to  the  sentiments  and  influences  which 
Count  de  Maistre  thus  describes  with  his  usual  imperious 
eloquence,  the  Emperor  Alexander  was  not  exempt  from 
perplexity  and  disquietude.  His  personal  acts  seemed 
often  to  enter  a  protest  against  his  official  measures.  When 
the  ukase  of  banishment  was  announced  to  the  Jesuitical 
order,  each  of  the  Fathers  received  from  the  Emperor's 
private  purse  pecuniary  assistance  and  furs  to  protect 
them  from  the  inclemency  of  the  journey.  Mme.  Swet- 
chine  could  no  longer  be  resigned  to  subordinating  her 
faith  to  prudence  and  mystery.  The  proscription  of  the 
Jesuits  outraged  her  love  of  justice,  besides  wounding 
her  personal  respect  and  confidence ;  and  her  unfailing 
sense  of  honor  must  needs  declare  itself  openly.  As  soon 
as  the  prescriptive  measure  was  announced,  Mme.  Swet- 
chine  avowed  herself  a  Catholic,  hastened  to  the  cell  of 
Father  Rosaven,  placed  at  his  disposal  and  that  of  his 
companions  in  misfortune  all  the  means  of  alleviation  at 
her  command,  and  allowed  no  obstacle  and  no  personal 
consideration  to  interfere  with  her  pleading  the'  cause  of 
the  calumniated  and  proscribed,  as  her  heart  dictated. 
Until  lately,  the  Emperor  had  testified  for  Mme.  Swetchine 
nothing  beyond  the  affectionate  regard  and  consideration 
which  all  the  imperial  family  bore  her.  But,  after  his 
return,  —  whether  it  was  that  he  had  become  cognizant 

'  O 

of  her  correspondence  with  Mile.  Stourdza,  or  that  he 
naturally  felt  more  drawn  to  her  by  the  new  turn  his 
thoughts  had  taken,  —  their  relations  became  closer  and 
more  intimate. 

Those  who  had  groaned  over  the  influence  of  Mme. 
de  Kriidener  were  yet  more  alarmed  to  think  of  the  sway 
which  a  reason,  lofty  and  pure  as  that  of  Mme.  Swetchine, 
might  come  to  exercise  over  a  susceptible  mind  like  Alex- 


152  LIFE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

ander's.  But  this  time  the  woman  who  represented 
religion  and  virtue  to  her  sovereign,  was  actually  worthy 
of  the  honor ;  and  the  men  whose  prejudices  or  interests 
were  wounded  by  her  ascendency,  convinced  that  they 
would  look  in  vain  for  a  stain  on  her  irreproachable  life, 
found  means  to  wound  her  by  directing  their  intrigues 
against  General  Swetchine.  The  wrath  excited  by  his  hon- 
orable course  at  the  time  of  Paul's  death  was  not  extinct; 
and  it  seized  this  opportunity  to  gratify  without  betraying 
itself.  A  fault  committed  by  a  subaltern  under  his  orders 
was  made  the  pretext  for  organizing  perfidious  machina- 
tions against  himself.  The  General  scorned  to  justify 
himself  hi  the  beginning ;  and  when  it  appeared  that  his 
enemies,  old  and  new,  had  obtained  a  hearing,  his  pride 
was  wounded,  and  he  took  the  course  of  leaving  Russia. 
His  departure  involved  that  of  Mme.  Swetchine, — a  result 
both  anticipated  and  desired.  The  Czar,  baffled  and 
irresolute,  testified  his  regret  to  Mme.  Swetchine  by  beg- 
ging her  to  write  him  on  her  journey.  This  correspondence 
was  kept  up  until  Alexander's  death.  Mme.  Swetchine 
carefully  preserved  the  Emperor's  letters,  and  he  accorded 
the  same  honor  to  hers.  On  the  death  of  Alexander, 

—  whether  by  his  express  desire,  or  through  the  delicate 
kindness  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas,  —  Mme.  Swetchine's 
letters  were   returned  to  her  at  Paris.      This  complete 
interchange  of  thoughts  —  whose  interest  may  easily  be 
estimated  —  was  still  in  her  possession  in  the  year  1845, 

—  when  she  permitted  an  eminent  statesman  of  that  day 
to  examine  the  letters.     No  trace  of  them  has  been  dis- 
covered among  his  papers.     We  are  at  a  loss  whether  to 
believe  that  these  documents  were  burned,  like  so  many 
others,  amid  the  alarms  of  1848,  or  merely  returned  to 
Russia,  —  in  which  case  they  will,  doubtless,  one  day  see 
the  light. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  153 

As  for  Mme.  Swetchine  herself,  the  thought  of  travel- 
ling in  Europe,  and  particularly  in  France  and  England, 
stimulated  her  passion  for  study,  and  allured  her  imagina- 
tion. Since  peace  had  opened  the  world  to  every  species 
of  investigation,  she  had  frequently  expressed  her  desire  to 
share  in  the  new  freedom.  Her  intentions  went  no  fur- 
ther. She  said  so  repeatedly  to  the  numerous  friends 
whom  she  left  behind  her.  In  a  note  to  her  friend  Tour- 
guenief,  we  find  an  explicit  statement  to  this  effect 

MY  DEAR  TOURGUENIEF,  —  Here  I  am  again  at  my  eternal 
petitions !  But  I  leave  so  many  unfortunates  here,  that  what 
is  useless  to  one  may  be  serviceable  to  another.  Be  so  kind  as 
to  look  after  them  a  little ;  and  sustain  your  courage,  if  it  is 
ready  to  droop,  by  the  reflection,  that,  in  spite  of  myself,  I  must 
soon  leave  you  at  peace.  Ah  !  my  friend,  if  I  had  nothing  else 
to  bind  me  to  my  native  land  save  these  children  and  poor  peo- 
ple whom  I  leave  behind  me,  the  tie  would  still  be  stronger 
than  all  foreign  allurements.  What  I  constantly  experience  in 
this  connection  is  the  best  proof  of  the  yearning  which  will  re- 
store me  to  my  country  sooner,  it  may  be,  than  I  myself 
suppose. 

Mile.  Stourdza  had  not  returned  to  Russia  with  the  Em- 
press. In  1816,  she  had  married  Count  Edling,  who  held 
a  conspicuous  post  at  the  court  of  the  Grand-duke  of  Saxe 
Weimar,  and  the  Grand -duchess  Mary,  Alexander's 
sister. 

Another  friendship  no  less  strong  and  faithful  had  ac- 
quired an  equal  right  in  the  heart  of  Mme.  Swetchine. 
Mile.  Marie  Gourief,  daughter  of  Count  Gourief,  who  was 
for  a  long  time  Minister  of  Finance,  had  married  Count 
Nesselrode,  Secretary  of  Foreign  Affairs.  Totally  unlike  the 
Countess  Edling  by  nature,  but  with  a  mind  equally  acute 
and  a  heart  equally  warm,  albeit  under  a  colder  exterior, 
Mme.  de  Nesselrode  had  consecrated  to  Mme.  Swetchiue 
one  of  those  friendships  which,  throughout  the  longest  life, 


154  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

afford  only  consolation  and  support.  We  shall  see  her, 
during  forty  years  of  separation,  as  active  a  friend,  and,  so 
to  speak,  as  constant  a  companion,  as  if  their  mutual 
affection  had  matured  in  the  narrow  and  intimate  circle 
in  which  it  originated. 

Mme.  Swetchine  took  with  her  a  magnificent  crayon 
portrait  of  Count  de  Maistre,  who  presented  it,  accompa- 
nied by  the  following  stanza,  which  he  inserted  in  the 
frame :  — 

"  Docile  a  1'appel,  plein  de  grace 
De  1'amitie  qui  vous  attend, 
Volez,  image,  et  prenez  place 
Ou  {'original  se  plait  tank" 

1  Docile  to  appeal,  and  thankful  for  the  love  that  awaits  yon,  fly,  my 
likeness,  and  take  your  place  where  the  original  loves  so  well  to  be. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  155 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Arrival  of  Mine.  Swetchine  at  Paris.  —  Correspondence  with  the  Duchess 
de  Duras. 

MADAME  SWETCHINE  did  not  protract  her  jour- 
ney from  Russia  to  France.  She  came  to  Paris  to 
pass  the  winter  of  1816  and  1817,  at  the  age  of  thirty -four, 
in  the  full  vigor  of  her  own  intellect,  and  at  the  political 
era  which  best  answered  to  her  own  ideas. 

She  had  known  just  so  much  of  the  crimes  of  the  Revo- 
lution as  the  indignant  memory  of  Europe  had  retained. 
She  had  judged  of  the  injustice  and  blindness  of  the  pas- 
sions of  the  mob  by  the  noble  victims  to  whom  she  had  so 
cordially  offered  her  share  of  hospitality.  She  had  also 
observed  closely,  and  with  no  less  keen  an  eye,  the  abuses, 
the  violence,  the  infatuation,  of  unlimited  and  uncontrolled 
power.  And  although  called  to  no  public  action,  and 
though  her  sweetness  and  timidity  revolted  from  the  idea 
of  direct  collision,  it  had  been  impossible  for  her  to  witness 
the  conflict  of  contradictory  principles,  so  fatal  alike  to  the 
hopes  and  delusions  of  humanity,  without  arriving,  in  her 
own  heart,  at  fixed  principles  and  conclusions.  She  as- 
sumed, in  the  first  place,  an  attitude  of  perfect  impartiality 
toward  all  those  who  might  conscientiously  and  sincerely 
represent  a  generous  idea ;  then  she  fixed  irrevocably  her 
own  preferences,  friendships,  and  views  on  the  side  which 
promised  the  longest  duration  to  limited  power  and  enlight- 
ened freedom. 

The  Restoration  realized  this  type.     Mme.  Swetchine 


156  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

gave  it  the  approbation  of  her  heart  and  mind.  She  was 
at  once  at  home  in  the  epoch  and  the  society  which  she 
had  come  so  far  to  visit.  Friends  whom  she  had  already 
proved  in  her  native  land  were  the  first  to  welcome  her,  — 
the  Marquis  d'Autichamp,  whom  she  found  Governor  of  the 
Louvre ;  the  Count  de  La  Garde,  who  received  one  of  the 
first  family  embassies ;  and  the  Duke  de  Richelieu,  who  at 
once  placed  her  on  ultimate  terms  with  his  two  sisters, 
the  Marquise  de  Montcalm  and  the  Countess  de  Jumilhac. 

The  Duke  de  Blacas  had  lived  much  at  St.  Petersburg 
in  the  years  which  preceded  the  Restoration  ;  and  he  had 
a  great  admiration  for  Mme.  Swetchine.  Up  to  his  latest 
years,  when  saddened  by  a  noble  and  voluntary  exile,  his 
cold  and  stern  face  expressed  emotion  whenever  her  name 
was  mentioned.  But  at  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of 
Louis  XVIII.,  the  Duke  de  Blacas  represented  the  court 
darling,  differing  widely  from  her  in  opinion,  and  with  no 
especial  desire  for  reconciliation.  It  was  by  means  of  their 
learning,  of  which  so  many  souvenirs  remain  at  Naples  and 
Rome,  that  the  Duke  de  Blacas  and  Mme.  Swetchine  main- 
tained their  relations.  M.  de  Maistre  had  sent  to  Mme. 
Swetchine  a  letter  for  the  Viscount  de  Bonald,  in  which  he 
said,  "  You  never  saw  more  moral  worth,  more  talent,  and 
more  erudition  united  to  so  much  goodness."  And  Viscount 
de  Bonald  replied,  "  She  is  a  friend  worthy  of  you,  and  has 
one  of  the  finest  minds  I  ever  met,  which  may  be  either 
the  effect  or  the  cause  of  the  most  excellent  qualities  with 
which  a  mortal  was  ever  endowed." 

The  charitable  institutions  of  France  excited  in  her  an 
interest  which  established  frequent  and  most  amicable  re- 
lations between  her  and  M.  de  Gerando.  The  diplomatic 
corps  had  two  assiduous  representatives  at  her  house  in  the 
persons  of  Baron  Humboldt  and  Count  Pozzo  di  Borgo. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  157 

The  salon  where  Mme.  Swetchine  found  herself  most 
speedily  at  home  was  that  of  the  Duchess  de  Duras.  There 
she  saw  for  the  first  time  Mme.  de  Stael,  and  addressed  a 
remark  to  her  which  has  been  often,  though  inaccurately, 
quoted.  The  Duchess  de  Duras,  wishing  to  make  up  for 
the  disappointment  of  St.  Petersburg,  invited  them  both  to  a 
small  and  very  select  dinner  party.  Always  very  reserved, 
Mme.  Swetchine  allowed  almost  the  whole  repast  to  pass  in 
silence,  and  scarcely  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  illustrious  guest 
opposite.  After  dinner,  Mme.  de  Stael  approached  Mme. 
Swetchine.  "  They  told  me,  madam,  that  you  desired  to 
make  my  acquaintance :  was  I  misinformed  ?  "  —  "  Assur- 
edly not,  madam ;  but  it  is  always  the  king  who  speaks 
first." 

Mme.  Swetchine  met  in  that  salon  all  the  reigning  intel- 
lects of  the  day.  All  shades  and  all  ranks  mingled  there  as 
they  did  in  the  political  councils  of  the  Restoration,  —  M. 
de  Chateaubriand  and  M.  Abel  Remusat,  M.  Cuvier  and 
Viscount  Matthieu  de  Montmorency,  M.  Mole,  M.  Ville- 
main,  and  M.  de  Barante.  Some  of  these  men,  particularly 
M.  Cuvier  and  M.  Abel  Remusat,  became  her  friends,  as 
they  were  those  of  the  Duchess  de  Duras.  Others  who 
were  more  deeply  involved  in  politics  did  not  nevertheless 
forget  their  meeting  with  her,  and  cherished  its  memory 
fondly.  Madame  de  Duras  conceived  for  her  one  of  the 
latest  and  deepest  affections  of  her  soul.  Often  strait- 
ened for  means,  in  spite  of  her  grand  position  ;  independent 
and  devoted,  zealous  and  thoughtful ;  in  the  world,  but  not 
of  it ;  an  earnest  Christian,  but  with  a  heart  that  piety 
had  not  yet  been  able  to  satisfy  and  render  calm,  —  the 
Duchess  de  Duras  recognized,  at  the  first  glance,  in  Mme. 
Swetchine  the  only  qualities  which  could  prove  alluring  to 
her  now,  —  sensibility  without  complacency,  sympathy 


158  LITE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

and  strength.  Some  of  the  outpourings  of  the  Duchess  de 
Duras  will  give  us  the  best  idea  of  what  Mme.  Swetchine 
was  on  her  arrival  in  France,  of  the  confidence,  the  affec- 
tion, the  enthusiasm,  she  inspired  at  first  sight.  This  corre- 
spondence will  be  a  mirror  which  shall  reflect  the  light  (so 
to  speak)  upon  the  portion  of  the  picture  which  we  desire 
to  examine. 

After  a  six  months'  stay  in  France,  General  Swetchine 
decided  that  his  presence  was  necessary  at  St.  Petersburg 
to  baffle  the  persevering  manoeuvres  of  his  enemies ;  and 
Mme.  Swetchine  did  not  hesitate  to  follow  him  thither. 

It  was  during  this  absence,  which  lasted  about  a  year, 
that  the  Duchess  de  Duras  wrote  the  following  letters. 
We  must,  however,  except  the  first,  of  which  a  fragment 
only  has  been  preserved,  and  to  whose  date  we  have  no 
clue,  but  which  evidently  refers  to  Mme.  Swetchine's  first 
sojourn  in  Paris,  and  to  the  commencement  of  her  intimate 
relations  with  Mme  de  Duras :  — 

ANDILLY. 

Was  I  unwise  to  bring  hither  two  volumes  of  those  memoirs 
of  Dangeau  ?  I  hope  not.  They  amuse  me.  They  read  them- 
selves, like  all  that  is  written,  —  all  books  that  contain  proper 
names,  and  every  thing  relating  to  Louis  XIV.  There  is  magic 
in  that  great  name  !  He  has  left  one  enduring  trace  of  himself. 
You  will  be  struck  by  it,  when  you  see  Versailles.  There 
nothing  comes  between  him  and  us.  "  He  did  us  great  honor," 
said  a  peasant  of  Rouergue ;  and,  with  the  French,  that  is  every 
thing.  What  matters  the  individual  suffering  ?  He  had  placed 
France  above  all  other  nations.  This  will  perpetuate  another 
name  beside  his, — the  name  of  one  who  deserves  immortality 
less,  for  he  had  neither  his  goodness  nor  his  greatness. 

So  I  chat  with  you,  and  it  gives  me  pleasure.  I  am  so 
sure  that  my  letter  will  be  received,  as  it  was  written,  kindly 
and  simply.  I  would  have  said  to  no  one  else  what  I  have  just 
said  to  you.  How  some  people  would  enjoy  commenting  upon 
it!  But,  with  you,  I  dread  neither  cavilling  nor  ill-will.  I 
believe  in  you  :  friendship  is  faith.  But  how  did  you  inspire 
me  with  this  confidence  ?  Uo  not  deprive  me  of  it ;  do  not  dis- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  159 

appoint  me :  it  would  grieve  me  too  deeply.     I  shall  return  on 
Friday,  and  hope  to  see  you  in  the  evening.     Come  early. 

My  little  house  progresses.1  I  hope,  m  fifteen  days,  to  be 
able  to  show  it  to  you ;  that  is,  its  walls.  Every  thing  is  to 
be  done.  You  will  need  all  your  imagination  to  comprehend 
it.  As  for  me,  I  am  like  an  author  thoroughly  imbued  with  his 
subject.  I  see  the  ensemble  and  the  details :  nothing  escapes 
me.  If  I  can  but  live,  and  cure  my  diseased  mind,  I  may  yet  be 
happy,  —  who  knows?  You  have  done  me  good,  and  that  is 
what  I  did  not  believe  possible.  Clara2  embraces  you.  Adieu 
till  Friday ! 


PARIS,  Aug.  24. 

Here  I  am  in  Paris,  dear  friend ;  and  you  would  believe  in 
my  devoted  friendship,  if  you  knew  what  I  suffer  in  your  ab- 
sence. This  cabinet  is  a  desert :  it  reminds  me  of  all  I  lack. 
I  entered  it  with  pleasure ;  but  now  it  is  a  source  of  sorrow, 
because  you  will  come  hither  no  more.  All  my  friends  are 
absent,  or  worse  than  absent ;  and  I  have  not  the  slightest 
chance  of  seeing  any  one  the  sight  of  whom  can  touch  my 
heart,  or  lift  the  weight  that  constantly  oppresses  it. 

Is  it  not  better  to  be  alone  at  Andilly  ?  There,  at  least,  all 
is  new.  We  must  endeavor,  of  course,  to  preserve  equanimity 
of  mind ;  but  it  is  impossible.  I  felt  the  need  of  writing  you 
the  moment  I  entered  here.  Josephine  told  me  that  you  came 
here.  Why  need  I  have  lost  a  single  hour  of  the  few  you  could 
still  afford  me  ?  But  it  was  better  so.  Adieus  are  not  needed, 
when  one's  future  is  as  sad  as  mine.  I  have  no  news.  The 
change  in  the  ministry  has  not  yet  taken  place,  but  it  is  only 
delayed.  .  .  . 

This  is  one  of  those  conventionalities  which  amaze  you,  and 
which  are  so  common  in  France.  It  would  certainly  be  better 
to  refuse  to  see  people  toward  whom  one  feels  in  this  way. 
Doubtless,  such  is  the  first  impulse :  but  one  dreads  scenes, 
eclat,  ridicule ;  and  the  result  is  a  false  and  frigid  intercourse, 
and  factitious  professions  of  interest,  which,  in  the  end,  impart 
a  fatal  taint  to  the  character,  and  destroy,  along  with  sincerity 
of  manners,  that  good  faith  of  the  heart  without  which  there  is 
no  true  worth.  And  then,  dear  friend,  what  is  the  use  ?  Why 
should  we  give  ourselves  so  much  anxiety  ?  Time  moves  on, 
and  regulates  all  things.  When  we  consider  what  hours, 


1  Mme.  de  Duras  was  preparing  a  delightful  retreat  at  Andilly. 

2  Clara  de  Duras,  afterwards  Duchess  de  Rauzan. 


160  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

months,  years,  and  lives  really  are,  it  seems  inconceivable  that 
we  should  torment  ourselves.  It  is  pitiful. 

The  burning  of  that  frigate  was  the  work  of  the  malecontents ; 
and  I  have  just  seen  the  Duke  de  Raguse,  who  was  sent  to 
Lyons,  Grenoble,  &c.,  to  pacify  and  conciliate  them.  Do  you 
know  him  ?  These  are  people  who  conciliate  by  cannon-balls  ! 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  the  classification  of  the 
peers.  They  are  to  be  divided  by  benches.  This  is  very  well. 
I  wish  every  thing  in  the  state  was  as  clearly  defined :  it  would 
remedy  one  of  the  greatest  evils  in  France, — the  uncertainty 
about  what  one  really  is,  which  paves  the  way  for  so  many 
pretensions.  A  definite  ambition  is  not  dangerous :  a  vague 
ambition  makes  us  discontented  with  what  we  have,  without 
giving  us  an  aim.  Oliver  de  Verac  received  a  letter  from  a 
provincial  lady  asking  a  place  for  her  son.  "  He  is  qualified," 
she  stated,  "  to  be  a  sub-prefect,  prefect,  councillor  of  State, 
or  even  minister."  Ah  well !  heads  are  full  of  this  in  France.  .  .  . 

Ah,  my  friend,  what  chatter!  I  am  ashamed  of  it.  It  seems 
as  if  you  were  here  upon  the  green  sofa,  and  had  devoted  your 
whole  evening  to  me,  so  that  we  felt  at  liberty  to  be  lavish,  and 
waste  our  time  in  idle  talk.  Mine.  Montcalm  always  does  me 
good ;  and  it  was  you  who  disarmed  my  prejudice,  fortunately 
for  me.  Nobody  fears  her  more  than  I ;  and  I  never  know 
how  to  conciliate  those  who  are  alienated  from  me.  I  should 
always  need  a  guardian  angel  like  you.  I  took  Clara  to  the 
ball  yesterday  evening,  and  am  dead  with  fatigue.  I  asked  my- 
self, whether,  among  all  the  young  people,  there  was  one  who 
would  suit  me  for  a  son-in-law.  No  :  there  is  but  one  after  my 
own  heart,  and  he  has  not  the  requisite  advantages.  I  dis- 
cussed the  whole  matter  fully  with  M.  de  Duras  this  morning, 
and  we  quite  agreed  on  the  main  points.  In  short,  he  leaves 
me  entirely  free  :  and  then  I  have  a  year,  at  least,  before  me ; 
and  that  year  is  too  precious  for  me  to  lose.  I  embrace  you. 
I  am  impatient  to  receive  tidings  of  yourself  and  the  journey 
to  Moscow,  and  to  get  the  first  word  of  promise  with  regard  to 
your  return. 

Albertine '  has  come.  She  is  going  to  La  Grange,  which  is 
lent  her  by  M.  de  La  Fayette,  who  is  absent.  I  love  her 
tenderly. 


ANDILLY,  Sept.  8. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  have  had  no  news  of  you  since  your 
letter  from  Strasbourg,  and  that  did  not  quite  please  me.     I 

i  Albertine  de  Stael,  afterwards  Duchess  de  Broglie. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  161 

should  like  to  unveil  my  heart  to  you,  and  you  would  be  satis- 
fied. I  love  you  more  than  I  should  have  believed  possible, 
after  what  I  have  experienced.  I  believe  in  you,  —  I,  who  had 
become  so  suspicious.  I  feel  secure  in  your  friendship :  I 
would  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  whatever  might  be  my  cir- 
.cumstances,  to  seek  it ;  and  I  should  be  sure  of  always  finding 
it  the  same.  Why,  then,  should  you  not  be  content  with  me  ? 
I  give  you  all  which  it  is  possible  to  give  in  a  life  as  confused 
as  mine.  If  you  had  come  sooner,  you  would  have  found  me 
whole ;  but  it  is  only  my  ruins  to  which  you  have  become 
attached.  Your  imagination  has  created  an  ensemble,  but  it  is 
no  longer  a  reality.  The  griefs  of  which  we  ought  to  die,  but 
do  not,  disarrange  our  characters  as  well  as  our  interests  and 
our  whole  existence.  Harmony  and  equilibrium  are  broken  up. 
Henceforward,  one  is  nothing.  Since,  however,  nature  ever 
has  a  tendency  to  regain  her  level,  we  are  tossed  about  on  an 
ocean  of  disgust  and  ennui ;  and  life  becomes  but  a  melancholy 
effort.  Such  is  the  poor  creature  whom  you  have  deigned  to 
love,  and  who  loves  you  with  all  the  remaining  strength  of  her 
heart.  I  am  constantly  here.  I  have  never  been  able  to  decide 
to  go  to  Tremblay ;  *  and;  when  the  time  comes,  T  shall  do  just 
the  same  about  Lormoy2  and  Mouchy.3  And  yet  I  do  not  love 
solitude.  I  am  too  much  with  myself,  and  that  is  not  good  for 
me ;  but  to  be  with  others  is  more  intolerable  still. 

I  have  had  M.  de  Humboldt  and  M.  de  la  Tour  du  Pin  here 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  also  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  who  came  to 
pass  three  days  in  Paris.  I  made  a  flying  visit  there.  His 
money  matters  are  arranged,  which  gives  me  positive  pleasure. 
He  is  now  independent,  for,  thank  Heaven  !  politics  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  arrangement.  I  found  him  in  his  best 
mood,  amiable,  and  having  quite  renounced  that  terrible  idea 
of  self-expatriation.  It  is  the  continuation  of  his  autobiogra- 
phy which  has  benefited  him  so  much.  He  has  told  the  story 
of  seven  or  eight  years  of  his  youth,  —  from  the  age  of  twelve 
till  his  entrance  into  the  service ;  of  the  first  efforts  of  his 
genius ;  of  his  reveries  in  the  Bois  de  Combourg ;  and,  finally, 
the  prose  history  of  which  Rene  is  the  versification.  It  is  charm- 
ing reading ;  but  I  trust  he  will  not  allow  himself  to  read  it  to 
anybody  but  me.  I  should  be  sorry,  for  a  good  many  reasons. 
His  present  intention  is,  that  the  memoirs  shall  not  appear  till 
fifty  years  after  his  death.  The  number  of  years  is  of  little 

1  Estate  of  the  Marquis  de  VeYac. 
a  Estate  of  the  Duke  de  Mailld. 
8  Estate  of  the  Duke  de  Mouchy. 
11 


162  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

consequence,  provided  he  is  not  living.  He  will  return  in  two 
or  three  weeks  to  look  out  a  lodging,  and  prepare  himself  for 
the  Chambers.  He  has  a  good  deal  to  say.  The  Concordat  agi- 
tates all  minds.  Benjamin  Constant  has  written  a  pamphlet  on 
the  elections,  which  is  simply  a  song  with  the  refrain,  Nominate 
me,  nominate  me  !  The  ministers  are  quizzed  in  it  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  If  there  was  a  courier,  I  would  send  you  the  work. 

The  Abbe"  Nicolle  has  been  somewhat  indisposed.  I  have 
not  discovered  that  Mine,  de  Montcalm  is  angry  with  you  for 
not  having  written  her.  I  am  longing  for  a  letter  from  Moscow, 
saying  that  you  can  and  will  return.  It  must  be,  dear  friend. 
You  know  that  I  have  the  misfortune  to  believe  only  in  actions, 
which  is  very  vulgar. 

Apropos  of  subtilties,  I  have  finished  Waldemar,1  and  am 
indignant  at  it.  I  cannot  endure  such  a  mixture  of  truth  and 
falsehood.  There  is  an  accuracy  of  reasoning,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  a  falseness  of  sentiment,  which  revolts  me.  I  can 
excuse  an  error  of  the  intellect,  when  the  heart  is  right;  but 
these  ultra  refinements  of  sentiment  are  intolerable,  —  tlus  love 
which  is  not  friendship,  and  friendship  which  is  not  love  !  Good 
Lord !  to  love  is  to  love ;  and  when  two  people  love  one  an- 
other sufficiently  to  have  everything  in  common,  —  thoughts, 
interests,  affections,  tastes,  —  they  can  do  no  better  than  to 
marry,  and  become  mutually  attached,  each  to  the  being  who 
has  doubled  the  other's  existence.  All  the  eloquence  of  Jacobi 
will  not  alter  the  case ;  but  he  has  some  admirable  passages, 
and  his  system  is  ingenious  and  fascinating. 

Adieu  !  How  can  1  send  so  far  what  I  should  say  in  my  own 
chimney-corner  ?  Let  us  not  think  of  it.  The  autumn  is  fine. 
Why  should  you  not  see  our  poor  France  in  this  beautiful 
weather  ?  It  is  another  and  a  better  thing  than  any  spring.  I 
embrace  you,  my  dear  friend.  Ask  my  forgiveness  for  your 
letter  from  Strasbourg. 

Clara  loves  and  mourns  for  you.  She  has  much  to  say  to 
Nadine. 


Sept.  20, 1817. 
I  showed  you,  my  dear  friend,  some  of  the  letters  of  my 

poor  friend .     You  admired,  with  me,  the  superiority  of 

ner  mind,  her  high  tone  of  feeling,  and  the  delicacy,  the 
wounded  pride,  which  have  so  long  been  imbittering  her  life, 
—  for  there  is,  in  my  opinion,  no  situation  more  cruel  than  one 


1  A  romance  by  Jacobi,  translated  by  Vanderbourg. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  163 

in  which  our  own  conduct  misrepresents  us.  We  are  judged 
with  so  much  severity,  and  yet  the  humiliation  is  so  painful ! 
And  when  one  has  won  the  admiration  awarded  to  beauty, 
grace,  wit,  and  elegance  of  manners  combined,  and  when  one 
has  enjoyed  that  admiration,  and  then  feels  that  it  is  disputed, 
how  terrible  must  be  one's  reflections !  add  to  this  a  sensi- 
bility wounded  or  misunderstood,  and  the  unrest  of  a  heart  at 
war  with  itself,  but  too  proud  to  ask  aught  of  others  ! 

In  short,  my  dear  friend,  the  situation  has  produced  its 
natural  effect,  —  her  brain  is  affected,  her  imagination  is  dis- 
ordered, she  has  lost  her  reason.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
much  pain  this  gives  me.  My  poor  friend  is  very  glad  to  see 
me.  Her  insanity  is  not  violent,  but  it  is  harrowing.  She  is 
smitten  with  fear :  she  thinks  she  is  to  be  assassinated ;  that 
every  thing  she  takes  is  poisoned ;  that  we  are  all  to  perish 
sooner  or  later  by  a  conspiracy,  but  that  she  is  especially 
doomed;  that  all  her  servants  are  half-pay  soldiers  in  disguise,1 
—  in  fine,  a  thousand  vagaries.  She  has  been  confessed.  She 
constantly  believes  that  she  is  to  die  the  ensuing  night,  but  says 
that  she  is  happy.  She  charged  me  to  justify  her  after  her 
death,  to  say  that  she  did  not  deserve  to  be  abandoned  as 
she  had  been :  in  short,  many  things  in  which  one  discovers  — 
spite  of  her  madness  —  the  trace  of  thoughts  which  I  know 
too  well  have  been  habitual  with  her.  This  is  heartrending. 
In  this  situation,  —  with  all  disguises  stripped  away,  —  we  see 
how  sweet  a  soul  hers  was,  and  how  great  her  capacity  for  suf- 
fering. Forgive  me !  you  never  saw  her,  but  you  know  her ; 
and  I  am  so  absorbed  by  my  poor  friend,  that  I  must  needs  tell 
you  of  this  first  of  all.  1  cannot  believe  that  so  recent  an 
attack  is  incurable,  —  horrible  thought!  Alas!  what  has  she 
done,  as  she  said  vesterday  in  her  ravings,  that  she  should  be 
treated  so?  People  will  say,  "How  was  she  treated?  She  was 
at  liberty  to  do  as  she  pleased,"  &c.  You  hear  it  where  you  are. 
But  the  wrongs  which  the  heart  resents  most  keenly  are  impal- 
pable and  invisible :  they  are  like  cactus-thorns,  which  make 
bad  wounds,  though  one  cannot  see  them.  Can  it  be  possible 
that  there  is  no  tribunal  before  which  offences  that  have  gone 
unpunished  in  this  world  shall  be  judged?  You  will  sympa- 
thize in  all  this.  I  know  only  M.  de  Chateaubriand  and  you 
who  could  understand  me  on  this  subject.  He  will  be  much 
distressed.  I  wrote  him  only  three  days  ago.  I  hope  her 
dreadful  condition  will  be  ameliorated,  but  thus  far  she  has 
only  grown  worse.  I  can  think  of  nothing  else.  .  .  . 

1  Military  recently  discharged  by  a  measure  which  had  excited  great 
discontent. 


164  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Did  I  tell  you  of  the  marriage  of  Louis  de  Saint  Priest  ? 
He  married  the  daughter  of  Caraman,  —  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  young  women  of  the  present  generation,  who  will 
make  him  a  lovely  wife.  She  is  Victor's '  sister,  and  twenty 
years  of  age.  Her  fortune  is  the  only  point  which  is  not  satis- 
factory. She  has  no  patrimony  whatever,  and  her  treatment 
is  so  uncertain.  Mme.  de  Montcalm  has  received  your  letter 
from  Saltzbourg.  I  see  her  tolerably  often  ;  but  it  is  hard  for 
us  to  feel  at  ease  with  one  another.  We  need  you :  you  were 
the  link  between  us ;  and  it  is  not  here  only  that  your  absence 
makes  itself  felt.  .  .  . 

Mine,  de  Boigne  has  returned  from  England.  That  country 
is  more  disturbed  than  ever  by  the  Jacobins.  London  is  their 
centre.  They  have  made  several  attempts  to  liberate  Napoleon 
at  St.  Helena :  new  plots  for  an  escape  are  daily  discovered. 
How  abominable  for  strangers  to  engage  in  such  manoeuvres ! 
If  it  were  Frenchmen,  it  would  be  rash,  —  criminal,  if  you  will ; 
but  it  would  not  be  villanous.  But  to  throw  from  a  distance 
the  match  which  kindles  the  fire,  and  to  watch  from  a  place 
of  safety  the  misfortunes  one  has  caused,  there  is  no  chas- 
tisement too  severe  for  such  enemies..  .  . 

Since  M.  Mole  has  been  in  the  ministry,  people  pretend  to 
dread  the  Jacobins.  Both  sides  are  apparently  making  ad- 
vances to  the  royalists  ;  but  I  do  not  believe  it  will  lead  to  any 
thing.  There  are  too  many  obstacles,  and  especially  too  much 
suspicion. 

I  have  seen  Auguste  de  Stae'l.  He  is  still  unlike  himself, 
and  has  not  recovered  from  his  affliction.  He  described  to  me 
the  awful  silence  which  had  reigned  in  the  family  since  his 
mother's  death.  She  stimulated  them  all.  The  animation  of 
her  presence  communicated  itself  to  every  thing  else.  Now 
they  had  the  old  routine,  but  the  life  was  gone  out  of  it.  ... 

I  received  your  Munich  and  Saltzbourg  letters  at  the  same 
time.  They  gave  me  great  pleasure ;  and  I  am  glad  to  rest  in 
the  hope  that  your  affairs  will  permit  your  return.  I  have 
spoken  to  M.  de  Ilumboldt  of  all  the  countries  you  have  trav- 
ersed. I  should  like  to  transport  myself  thither,  and  be  with 
you. 


October  8. 

They  tell  me  that  there  is  a  courier,  but  he  starts  to-day ; 
and  I  have  only  time  to  write  a  few  lines.     Still,  dear  friend, 

1  Victor  de  Caraman,  son  of  the  Marquis  de  Caraman,  created  duke  on 
his  return  from  a  mission  to  Vienna  in  1828. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  165 

I  do  not  want  him  to  go  empty-handed ;  and,  ill  as  I  feel,  I  have 
seated  myself  at  my  desk.  I  am  none  too  well.  I  have  the 
blues  badly ;  that  is  nothing,  and  I  do  not  want  to  talk  of  it. 
It  will  have  passed  when  you  receive  my  letter.  But  is  it  not 
deplorable  to  be  in  that  state  where  your  well-being  depends 
upon  a  breath,  a  mere  nothing  ?  Find  me  a  remedy  for  this 
evil.  I  know  very  well  what  you  will  say.  It  is  quite  true ; 
but  to  embrace  that  assistance  requires  all  the  strength  it  can 
impart,  and  that  is  what  I  have  not.  So  I  only  take  pallia- 
tives, and  remain  essentially  as  ill  as  ever.  I  received  your 
good  letter  from  Vienna,  and  sent  to  Georges,1  that  I  might 
question  him.  He  swore  that  you  were  well,  and  not  over- 
fatigued.  But  how  your  letter  aggravated  me  !  Might  you 
really  have  stayed?  The  thought  is  too  trying  to  dwell  upon. 
I  regret  you,  and  shall  as  long  as  I  live.  No  other  society 
pleases  or  suits  me  like  yours ;  and  your  affection  was  not  the 
sole  cause  of  my  happiness,  or,  rather,  it  was  not  your  praise,  but 
the  feeling  which  dictated  it,  that  made  me  happy.  There  was 
no  truth  in  it  all ;  but  you  thought  it,  and  that  was  enough ; 
and  so  it  is  with  any  sentiment.  We  love  feebly  where  we  judge 
impartially ;  and  there  is  no  deception  in  letting  a  soul  believe 
itself  worthy  of  what  is  given  it.  And  then  is  it  not  really  a 
means  of  improvement  ?  I  believe  that  you  have  actually  ren- 
dered me  estimable ;  but  you  need  not  have  left  me.  .  .  . 

Come  back,  my  friend  !    It  is  what  I  must  constantly  reiterate. 

I  have  just  had  recommended  to  me  a  Russian  lady,  the 
Countess  Lieven.2  I  have  not  seen  her;  but  I  have  a  grudge 
against  her,  because  she  is  a  Russian,  and  is  not  you ;  and,  not- 
withstanding the  wonderful  stories  they  tell  about  her,  I  will 
lay  a  wager  I  shall  not  like  her.  They  say,  moreover,  that  she 
is  what  they  call  in  London  "a  leader  of  fashion,"  which  is 
something  I  cannot  endure ;  for  to  hold  that  place  necessi- 
tates a  degree  of  effort  and  occupation  with  petty  things  which 
I  believe  incompatible  with  simplicity  and  elevation  of  mind.  .  .  . 

I  have  left  no  room  for  politics.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  has 
not  yet  arrived ;  but  the  turn  things  are  taking  makes  one  fear, 
more  than  ever,  that  reconciliation  is  impossible.  I  embrace 
you,  dear  friend,  with  all  my  heart !  Come  back,  come  back ! 
I  need  you  every  instant. 

1  Count  Georges  de  Caraman,  attached  to  the  embassy  of  Vienna. 

2  Afterwards  Princess   Lieven,  n4e  Benckendorf.     It  should  be  re- 
marked, that  this  celebrated  woman,  who  made  a  profound  impression  on 
European  society,  was  not  known  to  the  Duchess  de  Duras  when  this 
judgment  was  pronounced. 


166  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


October  22. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  Although  I  wrote  you  eight  days  ago, 
I  cannot  let  the  Abbe"  Nicolle  go  without  a  letter.  I  have 
none  from  you.  I  feel  your  absence  whenever  I  am  with  any 
of  the  persons  who  composed  our  little  soirees.  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand has  returned.  M.  de  Huinboldt  leaves  Friday,  to  pass 
five  days  with  his  brother  in  England.  .  .  . 

Here  all  is  unchanged.  The  opponents  protest  they  want  to 
be  friends  ;  but,  the  truth  is,  they  do  not.  I  expect  this  session 
will  be  consumed,  like  the  last,  in  tacking  between  the  two  par- 
ties. My  poor  friend  has  a  year  or  two  before  him  in  which 
to  arrange  his  affairs,  and  nous  verrons  is  the  refrain  of  the 
song.  They  are  blazing  away  at  the  Duke  de  Raguse,  for  his 
conduct  at  Lyons  ;  but  I  imagine  that  these  great  events,  which 
affect  us  so  sensibly,  look  very  small  at  your  distance.  The 
great  figure  of  the  Revolution  is  broken  into  a  heap  of  minute 
de*bris :  but,  whether  considered  in  detail  or  as  a  whole,  it  is 
still  the  Revolution ;  and  these  elements  are  perhaps  none  the 
less  dangerous  when  they  are  disunited,  and  when  one  is 
attacked  and  wounded  by  them  on  every  hand  without  the  pos- 
sibility of  seeing  or  seizing  them.  .  .  . 

Tell  me  that  you  are  coming  back,  and  that  you  do  not 
forget  me.  M.  de  La  Garde  gave  me  a  fright  about  you  the 
other  day.  He  told  me  that  you  would  cease  to  write  to  me 
some  fine  day,  and  yet  that  you  would  be  always  the  same. 
Do  not  believe  it.  I  do  not  understand  all  this,  but  they  may 
think  what  they  please.  All  the  sophistry  in  the  world  will  not 
alter  my  opinion.  You  know  that  I  am  vulgar  enough  to  be- 
lieve that  actions  speak  a  thousand  times  louder  than  words.  .  .  . 

Do  you  know  what  M.  Greffulhe  did  at  his  house  the  other 
day  ?  You  must  know  that  he  is  subject  to  fits  of  suffocation 
in  the  night,  and  that  one  of  the  things  that  help  him  most  is 
to  go  into  fresh  sheets  and  another  bed.  He  has  keys  to  all 
the  chambers  in  his  castle,1  and  he  promenades  these  all  night 
long.  The  other  day,  he  arrived  late  in  Paris,  and  went  to  bed 
without  a  word  to  any  one.  It  was  warm ;  and,  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  the  suffocation  seized  him.  Where  should  he 
go  to  bed?  He  remembered  a  chamber  occupied  by  Mme. 
d'Audemare.  Mme.  d'Audemare  was  away,  and  the  chamber 
empty.  M.  Greffulhe  arose,  and,  armed  with  a  lantern  and  a 
panne  partout,  he  traversed  a  long  corridor,  opened  the  door, 
entered  a  chamber,  and  prepared  for  repose.  He  approached 


Bois  Boudrant,  near  Melun. 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  167 

the  bed,  and  what  do  you  think  he  saw?  Mme.  de  Crillon 
sound  asleep,  who  had  arrived  the  night  before  unknown  to 
him.  Our  new  Scipio  retired  to  his  own  apartment,  and  at 
breakfast  gave  an  account  of  this  fine  adventure,  —  which  sur- 
prised Mme.  de  Crillon  a  good  deal,  since  she  had  never 
waked.  It  will  take  its  place  among  the  castle  legends.  How 
foolish  to  write  you  all  this  nonsense.  Adieu,  dear  friend ! 
I  am  in  a  hurry.  Write  me,  and  give  the  lie  to  M.  de  La  Garde ; 
and  especially  come  back,  come  back,  come  back !  If  I  should 
say  it  till  to-morrow,  I  should  not  feel  that  I  had  said  it  half  as 
much  as  I  desire  it. 


PARIS,  Oct.  31. 

Nothing  in  my  life  has  changed !  All  is  as  it  was  when  I 
knew  you ;  but  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  you  alone  could 
do  me  good,  and  now  I  am  minus  the  happiness  and  repose 
which  your  friendship  afforded  me.  Tell  me  in  detail  what  has 
necessitated  this  sad  sacrifice.  It  is  something  sudden  and 
unlooked  for,  because  you  were  coming,  in  spite  of  your  sis- 
ter's change  of  plans.  Write  me  word  about  it.  I  need  to 
come  to  an  understanding  with  you;  It  is  I  whom  you  have 
sacrificed ;  but,  if  it  was  your  duty,  do  not  think  that  I  blame 
you.  No !  I  certainly  should  not  wish  to  owe  your  presence 
to  any  thing  which  might  disturb  your  mind.  Your  letter  to 
the  Countess  Stanislas  *  troubled  me  in  more  ways  than  one. 
I  am  jealous  of  her :  you  love  her  very  dearly.  You  will  tell 
me  that  she  came  too  late ;  but  I  imagine  she  is  better  worth 
your  love  than  I.  She  has  such  an  air  of  repose.  She  pleases 
me,  but  I  am  not  at  my  ease  with  her.  That  will  come,  per- 
haps, when  we  talk  of  you.  I  do  not  yet  understand  why,  when 
she  has  lost  so  many  children,  she  should  have  deserted  this 
one.  You  know  my  doctrine  of  actions.  They  are  every 
thing.  The  finest  words  are  of  no  account.  I  have  seen  the 
Emperor2  pass.  Only  the  King  and  princes  have  more  to  boast 
of.  The  Princess  Bagration  persisted  in  the  cruelty  of  not 
giving  us  even  a  night.  As  for  me,  I  should  have  been  satisfied 
with  a  day.  The  Emperor  used  to  be  graceful.  He  is  always 
handsome,  and  I  perceive  that  he  has  grown  stout. 

I  am  in  the  depths  of  despair  since  I  have  learned  that  you 
are  not  to  return.  It  is  an  accident,  but  it  is  true.  I  need 
you,  my  friend,  every  moment ;  and  this  sentiment  is  strength- 

1  Countess  Potocka  nte  Branicka. 

a  The  Emperor  Alexander  on  his  return  from  England. 


168  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

ened,  rather  than  weakened,  by  my  increasing  certainty  that 
there  are  so  few  like  you.  My  poor  heart,  which  I  thought 
quite  dried  up,  renews  its  strength  to  love  and  to  regret  you. 
Who  knows  but  we  shall  meet  some  day  in  another  country 
than  this?  The  Jacobins,  in  consequence  of  the  measures 
they  have  adopted,  are  acquiring  new  power  every  day.  It 
might  still  be  possible  to  reduce  them  to  the  insignificance 
whence  they  should  never  have  emerged,  but  people  are  too 
blind.  And  then  I  believe  in  divine  decrees.  Perhaps  we  shall 
yet  admire  together  the  natural  beauties  of  Switzerland  or 
Italy,  in  that  country-home  which  shall  be  the  asylum  of  my 
family  and  my  friends  from  France.  The  money  destined  for 
its  purchase  is  all  ready ;  and,  when  I  find  myself  over-agitated 
by  the  confusion  and  misery  of  the  world,  I  meditate  upon  that 
future,  and  instantly  get  calm.  Adieu !  write  to  me.  I  shall 
give  this  letter  to  the  Countess  Stanislas,  who  is  to  pass  the 
evening  with  me  at  the  Tuileries.1 


November  19. 

I  have  been  troubled  at  receiving  no  jnews  from  you ;  but 
here  it  is  at  last,  only  too  summary  in  relation  to  your  own 
affairs.  You  speak  to  me  of  myself:  that  is  not  necessary, 
neither  is  it  reasonable.  When  friends  are  as  far  apart  as  we 
are,  they  cannot  answer,  but  they  can  address  one  another. 
Tell  me,  then,  of  all  your  occupations  ;  but  do  not  waste  these 
precious  sheets  in  replying  to  details  which  are  foreign  to  us 
both.  What  is  not  so,  and  what  comes  very  near  to  my  heart, 
is  your  return.  Do  not  attempt  to  dissemble  the  part  which 
I  may  have  in  it,  nor  underrate  my  share  of  gratitude.  I  accept 
it  all,  and  am  equal  to  all,  —  for  I  love  you.  At  the  com- 
mencement of  our  acquaintance,  I  desired  no  sacrifices  from 
you,  because  I  was  not  sure  of  my  own  affection  ;  but  at  present 
I  would  demand  such  sacrifices,  since  I  am  quite  ready  to  make 
them.  I  shall  see  you,  then,  dear  friend,  in  a  year,  —  minus 
six  days.  Remember  this,  and  see  that  you  do  not  give  me 
a  terrible  disappointment.  I  will  go  where  you  will  to  meet 
you,  and  we  will  spend  a  little  time  together.  I  should  like  to 
spend  my  life  so.  I  have  not  written  you  for  a  fortnight 
because  I  have  been  anxious,  and  hoping  to  be  delivered  from 
my  anxiety,  and  able  to  tell  you  something  positive. 


*  The  Duke  de  Duras,  as  first  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber,  was 
lodged  at  the  Tuileries. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  169 

Here  Mme.  de  Duras  enters  into  minute  details  about 
her  plans  for  the  marriage  of  her  daughter  Clara.  She 
then  resumes  :  — 

"  Perhaps  my  first  letter  will  contain  some  definite  informa- 
tion. 1  see  that  the  letter  which  I  sent  to  Just  de  Noailles1 
for  you  never  reached  you.  The  post  is  better  every  way.  I 
should  not  care  to  have  Pozzo  read  these  details. 

"  Our  little  soirees  have  commenced.  Everybody  misses 
you,  I  most  of  all,  and  more  just  now  than  ever.  M.  de 
Humboldt  has  been  in  England  for  a  fortnight.  He  will  have 
witnessed  the  terrible  affliction  into  which  the  country  has  been 
plunged  by  the  death  of  that  poor  young  princess.4  It  is  a  fine 
thing  when  the  institutions  of  a  country  are  such  that  a  loss  like 
this  is  a  misfortune  :  still  it  is  not  an  event  which  can  materially 
influence  the  political  existence  of  the  nation ;  and  this  of  it- 
self is  a  sufficient  eulogium  on  the  constitutional  form  of  gov- 
ernment. I  believe  that  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  work  is  not  to 
appear.  He  is  unwilling  to  do  any  thing  at  this  time  which 
might  irritate,  or  be  prejudicial  to  a  reconstruction.  I  have 
made  the  acquaintance  of  M.  de  Ville'le.  He  has  an  excellent 
head,  but  his  manner  is  a  little  too  confidential  to  suit  me.  I 
do  not  like  '  asides  '  unless  they  are  absolutely  necessary. 
Possibly,  it  is  a  kind  of  affectation  in  him.  I  will  reserve  my 
judgment :  I  have  only  seen  him  twice,  and  never  tete-a-tete. 
The  Duke  de  Richelieu  and  M.  Laisne  are  very  much  disaffected. 
I  am  persuaded  they  will  be  turned  out,  as  the  Duke  de  Feltre 
was.  Royer  Collard  said  yesterday,  that  the  Concordat  was  a 
political  crime,  and  that  to  sustain  it  was  a  political  folly.  This 
is  the  way  these  gentlemen  treat  one  another ;  and  you  know 
what  happens  to  a  house  divided  against  itself.  I  speak  of  these 
men  just  as  if  you  knew  them ;  but  you  know  France  so  well, 
it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  any  interest  or  any  individual 
therein  can  be  strange  to  you.  I  have  diffused  universal  joy 
by  the  announcement  of  your  return.  A  year  minus  one  day, 
remember,  dear  friend !  My  future  is  in  that  promise. 

"I  have  received  a  delightful  letter  from  a  traveller.3  He 
gives  a  minute  description  of  Athens  and  Constantinople.  A  sin- 

1  Just  de  Noailles,  Prince  de  Poix,  at  that  time  ambassador  at  St. 
Petersburg. 

2  Princess  Charlotte,  first  wife  of  Prince  Leopold  of  Saxe  Coburg, 
afterwards  king  of  Belgium. 

8  M.  de  Forbin. 


170  LITE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

gle  small  excavation  between  Phalerum  and  the  Piraeus  brought 
to  light  two  monuments,  two  vases,  and  several  statues  and 
bas-reliefs.  In  about  a  fortnight,  he  accomplished  a  great  deal. 
I  do  not  think  his  absence  will  be  very  long.  He  has  visited 
Constantinople,  in  spite  of  the  pestilence,  enveloped  in  a  great 
cloak  of  waxed  taffeta.  He  has  seen  the  Bezesteins,1  the  streets, 
the  edifices,  and  the  Sultan,  —  who  is  thirty-two  years  of  age, 
and  very  handsome.  He  says  that  the  Turks  elbowed  him,  the 
Greeks  laughed  at  him,  and  the  Jews  prostrated  themselves  be- 
fore him,  and  the  doves  lit  on  his  shoulders.  The  Abbe  de 
Janson  has  a  superb  moustache.  He  tries  all  the  Arab  horses, 
and  says  mass  every  day.  The  cousins  have  a  quarrel  because 
the  Abbe  de  Janson  8  wishes  to  take  the  command  of  M.  de 
Forbin,  and  because  they  are  infatuated  like  the  late  Bishop  of 
Marseilles.3  Apropos  of  Mine,  de  Sevigne",  I  am  to  have  her 
crucifix,  and  a  little  trifle  in  sandal-wood,  which  belonged  to  her 
writing-desk.  One  of  them  is  destined  for  you. 

"Yesterday  I  supped  with  the  Duchess  de  Luynes.  M.  de 
X.  was  happy.  There  was  a  scandal  on  foot !  Mine,  de  J. 
and  M.  de  la  C.  in  the  same  room,  seated  side  by  side  at  play. 
M.  de  la  C.  said  to  Mine,  de  J.,  'I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  ; '  and 
the  poor  man  was  overcome.  You  can  imagine  the  delight  of 
those  who  subsist  on  the  follies  of  their  neighbors.  It  is  melan- 
choly nourishment ;  and  the  mind  gets  no  good  by  it.  Heavens  ! 
what  a  pitiful  thing  is  conversation  at  these  great  parties  !  It 
was  the  opening  of  the  year ;  and  nonsense,  scandal,  and  friv- 
olity bloomed  in  all  their  freshness.  It  is  very  well  to  take  a 
respite  in  summer  from  what  is  called  the  great  world.  To 
have  a  taste  for  and  enjoy  it  would  be  the  greatest  misfortune 
which  could  happen  to  heart  or  mind.  Adieu,  dear  friend ! 
write  me  often, — so  often,  that,  when  September  comes,  we  shall 
have  nothing  to  say  to  one  another.  We  shall  have  the  happi- 
ness of  La  Bruydre,  '  To  be  with  those  we  love  is  enough.'  Ah, 
how  true  this  is !  and  it  is  a  happiness  which  will  outlast  this 
life.  In  this  thought  I  love  to  rest. 

"  M.  Benoist 4  desires  to  be  remembered  to  you.  His  son  is 
charming.  M.  de  Richelieu  does  nothing  for  him." 


1  Bazaars  at  Constantinople. 

2  The  Abbe"  de  Farbin  Janson,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Nancy. 

8  A  bishop  of  Marseilles  belonging  to  the  family  of  Forbin ;  see  the 
letters  of  Mme.  de  Sevign4. 

4  Count  Benoist,  director-general  under  the  Restoration,  father  of 
Viscount  Benoist  d'Azy. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  171 

In  the  ensuing  letter  Mme.  de  Duras  returns  to  the  de- 
tails of  her  daughter's  proposed  marriage,  and  then 

adds : — 

Jan.  29, 1818. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  You  must  excuse  me  for  allowing  my- 
self to  dwell  upon  what,  I  must  confess,  occupies  me  exclusively 
just  now.  I  have  no  courage  to  speak  of  politics.  If  you 
read  the  papers,  you  know  as  much  as  I  do.  1  have  had  news 
from  M.  de  Forbin,  dated  at  Jerusalem,  Nov.  20.  He  was 
to  be  in  Egypt  at  this  time.  I  think  we  shall  see  him  the 
ensuing  summer.  And  you, — when  will  you  come?  The 
Russians  here  will  not  believe  in  your  return.  This  irritates  me 
extremely.  Moreover,  I  do  not  like  them,  and  scarcely  see 
them  at  all,  except  the  Galitzin  for  Catinka's  sake.  .  .  . 

M.  de  Chateaubriand  has  broken  one  of  the  muscles  of  his 
leg,  and  is  confined  to  a  sofa  for  forty  days.  I  go  to  see  him ; 
but  you  have  no  idea  of  the  void  it  makes  in  my  life  not  to 
have  him  in  my  cabinet  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  morning 
thinking  aloud  to  me.  I  am  mortally  sad.  There  is  nothing 
more  strictly  internal  than  happiness ;  yet  what  are  external 
objects  without  it  ?  It  is  the  light  which  illumes  them :  all  is 
dull  and  lifeless  when  it  is  withdrawn.  You  write  me  very  sel- 
dom, and  speak  neither  of  yourself  nor  of  your  associates. 
Our  correspondence  is  not  what  I  could  wish.  Have  you  seen 
the  nonsense  which  is  said  of  me  in  the  English  journals,  — 
how  a  statement  has  appeared  in  them  of  the  opinions  of  MM. 
de  Fitz  James  and  de  Polignac,  which  I  have  reviewed  and 
corrected  ?  There  is  only  one  difficulty :  these  gentlemen  do 
not  come  to  my  house.  The  King  knows  it  perfectly  well,  and 
has  said  so :  so  that  I  should  not  care  if  I  had  not  such  a  horror 
of  having  my  name  in  print  anywhere  and  for  any  cause.  This 
piece  of  malice  must  have  crossed  the  sea  twice ;  for  I  will 
never  believe  that  the  Londoners  take  any  interest  in  such 
gossip. 


Feb.  2, 1818. 

This  letter  is  truly  conversational.  I  wish  I  might  receive 
one  from  you  which  should  be  equally  confidential  about  your 
own  interests.  Speak  particularly  of  your  return,  and  of  all 
which  favors  or  hinders  it.  Mine,  de  Montcalm  has  been  sick. 
She  is  better ;  but  she  is  eaten  up  by  politics.  They  are  her 
vulture. 


1  Catinka  Galitzin,  Countess  Edmund  de  Caumont 


172  LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

M.  de  Humboldt  is  well.  M.  M.  Benoist,  d'Harcourt  —  all 
our  friends  are  here.  I  no  longer  see  M.  de  Villele,  who  is  as 
•witty  in  conversation  as  in  the  tribune.  You  know  very  well 
that  I  prefer  the  other  side.  In  the  matter  of  ultras,  I  like  only 
three  or  four  distinguished  men,  —  the  generals  :  the  rank  and 
file  weary  me  to  death,  and  I  do  not  see  much  of  them.  If  M. 
de  Chateaubriand  were  to  continue  ill  long,  I  should  join  the 
ministerial  party  for  very  ennui,  and  the  unreasonableness  of 
those  who  surround  his  couch.  Adieu !  I  embrace  you. 


May  3. 

Still  no  news  from  you.  Just  arrived  this  morning,  and 
brought  me  nothing ;  but  at  least  I  shall  talk  with  him  about 
you,  and  that  will  be  a  pleasure  to  both  of  us.  Your  silence 
grieves  and  disturbs  me.  You  do  not  write,  because  you  have 
not  the  courage  to  tell  me  that  you  are  not  coining  back ;  and 
as  for  me,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  not  the  courage  to  hear  it. 
Yes,  I  need  you,  —  need  you  greatly !  There  are  so  many 
things  to  say  which  one  cannot  write,  and  especially  at  such  a 
distance,  and  with  the  experience  I  have  had  in  lost  letters. 
To  whom  did  they  go  ?  I  want  to  tell  to  none  but  you  the 
pains  and  pleasures  of  my  heart. 

M.  d' dreads  M.  de  Duras.  People  who  have  com- 
mitted political  sins  have  singularly  timorous  consciences. 
They  imagine  that  men  owe  them  a  grudge  for  things  long 
since  forgotten,  and  steps  which  Time  has  effaced  a  hundred 
tunes  over.  This  is  the  true  state  of  the  case ;  but  the  uneasi- 
ness which  they  experience  themselves  is  much  more  difficult 
to  cure  than  that  of  which  they  suspect  us. 


May  5. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  have  received  your  good  letter  of  the 
30th  of  March.  Is  it  possible  that  the  silliest  rumor  in  the 
world  has  reached  you  ?  —  a  rumor  which  lasted  but  two  days, 
and  never  had  any  foundation  ;  and  which  arose  from  the  fact, 
that  M.  de  Duras,  who  had  gone  to  see  Mine,  de  Lubersac  and 
spend  a  fortnight  at  Usse" '  during  planting  time,  when  he  found 
the  season  advancing,  left,  not  expecting  the  recruiting  law. 
But  our  position  is  not  in  the  least  altered.  The  King  is  always 
the  same  to  M.  de  Duras,  and,  without  being  any  more  in  favor 
with  him,  he  is  certainly  no  less  so  than  when  you  were  here. 

1  Chateau  near  de  Langeais,  in  Touraine. 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  173 

However,  dear  friend,  you  will  make  me  regret  disgrace,  if  it 
could  have  brought  you  to  my  side.  You  are  ill.  Our  climate 
is  necessary  to  you.  Come  back,  I  implore  you !  I  am  dis- 
consolate that  you  have  no  fixed  plans.  Tell  me,  then,  the 
nature  of  your  difficulties.  Your  affairs  are  now  in  such  a  state, 
that  General  Swetchine  might  wind  them  up,  and  then  rejoin 
you.  Send  me  one  decisive  word.  You  repulse  me  in  my 
uncertainty. 

ANDILLY,  July  8. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  have  received  an  adorable  letter  from 
you.  It  ought  to  be  enough  for  one's  happiness  to  know  that 
there  is,  at  the  world's  end,  a  being  who  loves  one  sincerely ; 
and  1  always  find  that  I  am  unjust  to  Providence  when  I  ask 
any  thing  more.  Yet  I  do  ask  him  more  earnestly  than  ever 
for  your  return.  You  are  the  only  person  who  understands 
my  position ;  and  you  give  me  good  advice.  ...  I  wrote  you 
about  my  cottage,  where  I  have  been  established  for  a  fortnight. 
I  received  this  morning  your  beautiful  strips  of  needlework. 
They  shall  be  for  the  front  of  my  sofa.  I  should  like  to  adorn 
myself  with  your  gifts.  Nothing  could  be  prettier  than  my 
little  retreat.  Why  are  you  not  here  ? 

Your  chamber  is  ready,  and  so  is  Nadine's.  Come,  come, 
dear  friend  !  Life  is  so  short ;  why  should  we  waste  it  thus  ? 
I  am  anxious  about  your  health.  1  believe  our  climate  to  be 
much  better  for  you  than  the  Russian.  All  feeble  constitutions 
are  recruited  by  the  lovely  weather  we  have  had  for  three 
mouths  past.  I  am  very  well.  My  stomach  is  astonishingly 
renovated.  I  sleep  all  night  long,  and  they  tell  me  I  am  grow- 
ing stout ;  but  I  am  incredibly  weak  after  my  illness.  I,  who 
was  so  strong,  cannot  endure  the  least  fatigue  without  a  re- 
lapse. I  am  like  a  building  which  presents  a  fair  appearance, 
but  has  no  stability.  A  breath  upsets  me.  I  have,  besides, 
those  singular  throbbings  of  the  arteries  about  the  heart.  I 
am  convinced  that  the  organ  is  enlarged ;  and  what  surprises 
me  is,  that  I  am  still  alive.  I  would  give  all  the  world  if  my 
poor  Clara  were  only  happy.  I  pity  myself  to  think  that  I  can 
be  concerned  about  any  thing  else.  What  a  letter  !  all  full  of 
me.  How  does  it  happen  that  I  have  such  entire  confidence  in 
you  ?  I  did  not  suppose  it  possible  any  longer.  It  is  the 
strongest  proof  of  friendship  I  could  give  you. 

Yet  once  again  I  beg  for  some  precise  information  about 
your  return.  I  need  it  more  than  I  can  tell  you;  and  every 
day  that  passes  is  so  much  taken  from  the  friendship  which  will 
be  the  blessing  of  our  lives.  Think  of  it,  and  do  not  let  tri- 
fling obstacles  detain  you ;  and  I  call  those  trilling  which  are 
not  insurmountable. 


174  LIFE   OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


ANDILLY,  Aug.  19. 

I  go  to  Paris  on  the  evening  of  the  23d.  Lord  Wellington 
has  come  ;  but  I  have  no  hope.  It  makes  no  difference  :  one 
must  act  precisely  the  same ;  but  all  I  do  will  be  nullified  by 
what  my  poor  friend  writes.  He  is  at  his  wit's  end  ;  and  you 
can  judge  what  his  pen  will  produce,  when  he  has  thrown  off 
all  restraint,  and  writes  from  a  place  where  the  most  exag- 
gerated style  of  opinion  prevails.  It  is  no  use  to  hope.  There 
are  characters,  and  especially  orders,  of  talent,  which  are  always 
persecuted,  or  fancy  that  they  are  so.  It  would  be  forcing  na- 
ture to  rescue  M.  de  Chateaubriand  from  this  infliction. 
When  all  is  said,  he  will  remain  a  French  peer;  but,  if  he 
could  lose  this  rank,  you  may  be  sure  he  would.  I  have  begun 
a  piece  of  work  which  interests  because  it  does  not  fatigue  me. 
I  am  translating  Glenarvon ;  and  I  beg  you  to  be  so  kind  as 
to  read  it.  It  is  the  freest  translation  possible.  I  add  and 
take  away  continually ;  but  I  find  so  much  talent  and  original- 
ity, and  so  many  things  that  I  should  have  said  myself,  that  it 
is  thoroughly  amusing.  I  only  manage  to  keep  the  thread  of 
the  story ;  but  that  is  a  support,  and  I  make  progress.  Read 
it.  You  will  readily  separate  the  gold  from  the  alloy ;  and 
you  will  see  whether  I  was  mistaken  about  its  original  talent. 
Nobody  liked  it ;  but  did  anybody  like  Adolphe  ? l 


Nov.  23. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  — You  are  almost  here  !  This  is  all  I  can 
see  in  your  letter.  What  joy,  what  bliss,  to  see  you  again  !  to 
be  sure  that  you  are  coming !  I  love  you  with  all  the  ardor  of 
my  youth !  I  should  never  have  believed  it  possible.  Yester- 
day the  Countess  Stanislas,  of  whom  I  am  very  fond,  came  to 
see  me  at  the  Tuileries.  The  first  word  she  said  was,  that  you 
had  left  St.  Petersburg,  but  that  you  were  going  to  Rome. 
She  had  learned  it  from  the  Countess  de  Nesselrode,  who  in- 
formed her,  at  the  same  time,  that  you  were  going  by  the  way 
of  Vienna,  and  that  she  had  sent  my  portrait  thither ;  for  I 
have  had  my  picture  taken  for  you,  dear  friend,  and  Mine,  de 
Nesselrode  had  undertaken  to  forward  the  box  to  you.  Rome 
annoyed  me  :  still  I  dared  not  murmur,  since  it  was  your  sister 
you  were  going  to  see.  But  what  joy  your  yesterday's  letter 
gave  me  !  You  are  coming  straight  here,  without  that  Italian 
journey,  which  would  inevitably  have  deferred  your  arrival  till 

1  By  Benjamin  Constant. 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  175 

spring.  But  no  more  changes.  Do  not  take  this  comfort  away 
from  me :  it  would  be  too  hard !  I  am  so  accustomed  to 
trouble,  that  the  sensation  of  joy  confuses  me.  The  19th  of 
October  is  so  late  a  date  for  St.  Petersburg,  that  I  cannot  be- 
lieve Mine,  de  Nesselrode  has  the  last  intelligence.  But  you 
are  suffering,  and  you  do  not  say  how.  The  journey,  it  may 
be,  will  fatigue  you.  The  cold  will  be  extreme,  and  the  win- 
ter promises  to  be  severe ;  and  perhaps  I  am  rejoicing  when  I 
ought  to  mourn.  Yet,  once  here,  the  climate  suits  you  better 
than  that  of  Russia.  I  will  take  care  o.f  you :  I  will  lead  you 
to  the  waters  :  I  will  take  possession  of  you  ;  and  it  is  my  wish 
that  not  a  pang,  mental  or  physical,  should  visit  you  while 
with  me. 

This  letter  goes  to  Weimar ;  but  perhaps  you  will  miss  of 
it  there.  I  shall  send  it  off  at  once.  I  embrace  you  a  million 
times. 

Mme.  Swetchine  achieved,  not  without  difficulty,  the  end 
proposed  by  her  journey,  and  became  more  and  more  con- 
vinced that  the  benevolent  disposition  of  the  Emperor 
Alexander  did  not  enable  him  to  enforce  justice  and  im- 
partiality about  him.  The  prejudice  against  Catholicism 
was  on  the  increase ;  and  the  soul  of  the  Emperor  grew 
melancholy  without  his  becoming  either  more  enlightened 
or  firmer  of  purpose.  The  Count  de  Maistre  had  seen  his 
moral  authority  contested  at  the  very  moment  when  his  of- 
ficial position,  along  with  the  situation  of  the  king,  his 
master,  resumed  its  normal  aspect,  and  he  had  expressed 
a  wish  to  leave  St.  Petersburg. 

The  Countess  Edling  continued  to  reside  at  the  court 
of  Weimar.  The  Countess  de  Nesselrode,  who  was  in- 
volved, along  with  her  husband,  in  the  agitations  of  the 
highest  political  circles,  could  only  consecrate  to  her  faith- 
ful friendship  those  rare  moments  which  she  spared  from 
her  imperative  duties.  Finally,  to  complete  Mme.  Swet- 
chine's  privations,  she  did  not,  on  her  return  to  Russia, 
find  her  sister  there.  Prince  Gargarin  had  happened  to 
excite  the  jealousy  of  Alexander,  and  had  been  attached  to 


176  LIFE    OP   MADAME    STTETCHINE. 

the  embassy  at  Rome.  Mme.  Swetchine  was  thus  recalled 
to  France  by  a  double  attraction ;  and,  though  she  had  not 
conceived  the  idea  of  a  permanent  establishment  at  Paris, 
she  cherished  a  plan  for  a  protracted  residence  in  a  country 
which  had  captivated  her  taste  and  won  her  affection  at 
first  sight.  She  arranged  her  affairs  with  a  view  to  a 
long  absence ;  and  General  Swetchine  withdrew  from  a 
court  which  he  had  never  frequented  in  the  character  of 
a  courtier,  and  where  he  had  more  than  once  been  sub- 
jected to  unmerited  displeasure. 

Both  quitted  Russia  towards  the  end  of  the  autumn  of 
1818,  —  the  General  to  return  no  more;  Mme.  Swetchine 
to  make  one  last  journey  thither  in  the  reign  of  the  Em- 
peror Nicholas,  and  attain  thereby,  after  the  Revolution  of 
July,  the  privilege  of  an  exceptional  sojourn. 

The  Emperor  and  Empress  permitted  Mme.  Swetchine's 
voluntary  exile,  as  they  had  permitted  the  departure  of  the 
Countess  Edling ;  holding  both  in  affectionate  esteem,  but 
according  their  preference  to  intellects  and  hearts  far  less 
worthy.  The  more  absolute  a  monarch  is,  the  more  he 
needs  to  be  on  his  guard  against  the  temptation  of  award- 
ing to  custom  the  place  due  to  merit  and  services.  Inferior 
natures  flatter,  and  to  some  extent  corrupt,  their  masters, 
even  when  they  are  not,  consciously  and  voluntarily, 
sycophantic  and  unprincipled.  Without  effort  and  without 
premeditation,  they  stimulate  and  cherish  a  prince's  con- 
stant enjoyment  of  his  superiority ;  and,  without  being 
exempt  from  vanity  or  infatuation,  they  are  incapable  of 
raising  these  two  elements  of  resistance  to  the  height 
of  sustained  dignity  or  sturdy  complaint.  Only  too  happy 
to  obey  with  a  show  of  advising,  they  are  restrained  from 
contradiction  even  more  by  sterility  of  thought  than  by 
lack  of  courage. 


LIFE    OP  MADAME   SWETCHINE.  177 


CHAPTER  X. 

Unpublished  letters  of  Count  de  Maistre.  —  Mme.  Swetchine's  earliest 
connections  in  Paris.  —  Notes  of  the  Abb6  Desjardins. —  Departure 
of  Mme.  Swetchine  for  Italy.  —  Correspondence  with  the  Marquise  de 
Montcalm. 

COUNT  DE  MAISTRE  embarked  on  board  a  Rus- 
sian vessel  on  the  27th  of  May,  1817;  landed  at 
Calais  on  the  20th  of  June ;  and,  on  the  24th,  arrived  in 
Paris.  It  had  been  his  wish  to  see  France  before  revisiting 
his  native  land ;  but  he  was  soon  at  Turin,  yielding  him- 
self unrestrainedly  to  the  sweets  of  domestic  life,  which 
were  almost  unknown  to  him.  He  put  the  finishing 
touches  to  several  of  his  works,  brought  out  his  book  on 
"  The  Pope,"  and  prepared  the  "  Soirees  de  St.  Peters- 
burg." Three  of  his  letters  have  been  preserved.  The 
first,  dated  in  Russia,  speaks  of  the  regret  caused  by  Mme. 
Swetchine's  departure,  and  invokes  her  memory  in  the 
name  of  her  sorrowing  friends.  The  two  others  are  sub- 
sequent to  M.  de  Maistre's  return  to  Piedmont.  The  three 
are  given  consecutively,  notwithstanding  the  difference  in 

their  dates :  — 

ST.  PETERSBURG,  Aug.  17  (29),  1816. 

I  am  charged,  madame,  by  your  good  friend  the  Countess 
Razoumofsky,  with  a  sad  message  for  you, — to  acquaint  you, 
namely,  with  the  death  of  her  good  mother,  the  poor  Baroness 
de  Maltzen,  whom  yesterday  we  accompanied  to  her  last  rest- 
ing-place. She  died  on  Monday,  the  14th,  about  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  in  the  arms  of  her  daughter  and  the  faithful 
Carize.  Mine.  Viollier,  who  is  occupying  at  present  a  little 
country-seat  on  the  road  from  Catherinhof,  close  to  Peterhof, 
has  very  opportunely  assumed  charge  of  the  poor  Countess, 

12 


178  LIFE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

and  taken  her  home  with  her.  I  am  going  to  see  her.  The 
Princess  Sherebatof  is  making  great  exertions  in  her  behalf; 
and,  in  short,  we  are  doing  what  we  can.  But  how  we  miss 
you  !  and  how  your  absence  has  been  regretted  on  this  sad  occa- 
sion by  the  unhappy  widow !  for  such  she  is. 

Mine,  de  Maltzen  took  remedies  which  burned  her;  and, 
when  she  swallowed  them,  she  said,  "You  are  killing  me!" 
After  her  death,  the  physician  decided  that  she  had  an  abscess 
in  the  chest  which  he  had  not  suspected.  Thereupon,  the  poor 
Countess  tore  her  hair,  and  would  have  it  that  she  was  to  blame 
for  not  having  prevented  the  use  of  those  remedies.  You  can 
imagine  what  a  dispute  she  had  with  Stoffsin.  O  medicine  !  we 
are  constantly  seeing  new  triumphs  of  thine !  The  Grand- 
marshal  leaves  to-day  or  to-morrow,  in  a  deplorable  state.  It 
is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  consumption  of  the  bowels.  He 
goes  accompanied  by  his  daughter,  who  is  enceinte,  his  son,  and 
a  physician ;  but,  consumed  by  a  frightful  dysentery,  he  will 
die  in  some  neighboring  inn.  You  are  simple  enough,  it  may 
be,  madame,  to  ask  the  foolish  question  why  he  goes.  Ah,  you 
know  nothing  about  it !  The  Emperor  has  given  him  a  hundred 
thousand  roubles  for  his  journey;  so  he  must  go,  that  is  plain. 

To  return  to  your  afflicted  friend.  She  had  a  great  desire 
to  return  immediately  to  town,  and  take  a  lodging  near  the 
church ;  but  it  could  not  be.  Her  house,  as  you  know,  ma- 
dame,  is  disputed  property  :  it  is  not  known  to  whom  it  belongs. 
The  Emperor  came  to  no  decision  before  his  departure.  The 
syndics  say  they  are  syndics  no  longer,  since  the  promulgation 
of  the  imperial  ukase,  and  refuse  to  accept  their  arrears  of  pay. 
There  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  this  state  of  things  should 
not  continue.  I  hope,  by  God's  grace,  that  the  house  will  be 
destroyed  before  the  question  of  its  ownership  is  settled. 

Yesterday,  the  poor  lady's  last  word  before  we  parted  was, 
"You  will  write  to  her,  —  will  you  not?  "  You  may  be  sure, 
madame,  that  my  promise  was  readily  given.  As  soon  as  your 
friend  has  recovered  some  degree  of  strength  and  calmness, 
you  will  receive  a  long  letter  from  herself. 

I  have  no  information  to  give  you  about  myself,  madame, 
except  that,  according  to  all  appearances,  I  shall  yet  pass  the 
winter  with  you.  The  destiny  which  awaits  me  under  other 
skies  will  be  better  discussed  in  conversation  than  by  letter. 
In  one  way  or  another,  I  hope  to  find  myself  once  more  upon 
your  track ;  and,  while  looking  forward  to  our  re-union,  I  shall 
not  cease  to  mourn  for  you.  You  certainly  ought,  madame,  to 
ask  for  Prince  Kalsofsky's '  place  at  Turin.  You  are  not  as 


1  Minister  from  Russia  to  the  court  of  Sardinia. 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  179 

heavy  as  he,  but  you  have  more  weight ;  and,  though  your  mind 
may  be  "weak  and  illogical,"1  ours  will  easily  accommodate 
themselves  thereto.  Take  my  word  for  it,  my  good  Sophie, 
and  come  forward. 

You  cannot  guess,  madame,  how  deeply  I  am  obliged  to  that 
good  princess  who  has  never  failed  to  give  me  tidings  of  you. 
Every  Wednesday  and  Saturday  I  institute  an  inquiry.  I  know 
not,  when  I  arrive,  but  you  are  already  burned : 2  but  when 
she  has  said  "She  speaks  of  you,  M.  le  Comte,"  then  all  is 
said.  Happily,  it  is  a  good  deal. 

I  kiss  the  hands  of  Sophie  with  respect,  and  beg  her  to  hold 
me  in  remembrance,  —  mine  of  her  is  eternal. 

So  I  finish,  as  our  fathers  used,  with  a  prayer  that  God  will 
have  you  in  his  safe  and  holy  keeping.     Nothing  can  be  fitter. 
May  he  shield  you,  and  enlighten  you,  and  bless  you ! 
Your  very  humble  servant  and  eternal  friend, 

PHILOMATES  DE  CIVARRON. 

Did  I  ever  tell  you,  madame,  that  this  is  my  Latin  name?3 


TURIN,  Oct.  26, 1819. 

MY  DEAR  AND  HONORED  FRIEND, — I  received  your  Vienna 
letter  on  the  13th  of  September.  Pray,  do  not  wonder  at  my 
silence.  I  have  been  constantly  on  the  move  since  my  depart- 
ure from  Paris,  and  have  resumed  no  regular  correspondence. 
In  the  first  place,  I  went  home,  where  I  spent  six  days  in  a 
kind  of  perpetual  enchantment,  surrounded  by  brothers,  sisters, 
nephews,  nieces,  and  cousins, — male  and  female,  —  caressed, 
feted,  glorified,  spoiled,  after  an  incredible  fashion.  I  then 
repaired  to  Turin,  where  I  was  patched  up  most  artisti- 
cally. Then  to  Genoa,  to  my  sister,  Mrae.  de  St.  Real,  who 
set  about  demoralizing  me  anew.  But  here  I  am  at  last,  sur- 
rounded by  the  best  of  remedies,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  my 
attacks  at  Chamb^ry  and  Genoa  will  have  any  serious  conse- 
quences. 

I  know  no  more  of  my  future  than  on  the  day  when  I  first 


1  An  allusion  to  the  terms  of  the  ukase  which  proscribed  the  Jesuits. 

2  The  Princess  Gargarin  was  accustomed  carefully  to  burn  her  corre- 
spondence with  her  sistor. 

*  Philomates,  derived  from  the  Greek,  signifies  a  friend  of  science; 
and  Civarron  is  the  Latin  name  for  Chambe'ry.  The  Cardinal  Chigi,  who 
became  pope  under  the  name  of  Alexander  VII.,  had  already,  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  adopted  the  pseudonym  of 


180  LIFE   OP  MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

set  foot  in  this  august  capital.  My  position  is  indefinable.  I 
wish  you  were  here  to  see ;  but,  while  I  await  the  finale,  of 
which  I  shall  inform  you,  I  am  not  in  the  least  impatient.  I 
have  seen  others  in  these  twenty  years.  You  shall  be  apprised 
of  all  that  occurs  to  me ;  and  I  hope  you  will  treat  me  in  the 
same  way.  There  must  be  no  divorce,  or  even  separation, 
between  us. 

Ah,  how  those  absurd  ideas  of  geography  and  chronology 
will  keep  occurring  to  my  mind,  when  I  think  of  you !  My 
poor  vine !  when  beaten  by  the  storm,  to  what  elm  will  you 
cling  ?  when  your  heart  swells  with  bitterness  and  contradic- 
tion, what  will  you  do?  will  you  crush  it  between  two  stones? 
Do  not,  in  God's  name !  But,  when  you  are  so  inclined,  write 
to  me.  I  shall  never  get  accustomed  to  your  absence,  to 
the  impossibility  of  calling  upon  you  to  give  an  account  of 
your  thoughts,  your  joys,  and  your  sorrows.  When  you  are 
fairly  settled,  send  me  a  sketch  of  your  cabinet,  that  I  may 
see  your  table,  your  arm-chair,  and  the  place  for  your  books. 
I  am  doing  my  best  to  add  to  your  stock  ;  but  I  am  constantly 
thwarted  in  one  way  and  another.  If  I  succeed,  it  will  be  a 
great  affair.  The  Duchess  de  Duras  was  calmly  oblivious  of 
the  work  upon  her  desk.  She  had  never  bestowed  a  thought 
upon  it,  still  less  upon  its  author.  When  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand at  last  informed  me  of  the  fact,  with  all  sorts  of  polite 
apologies,  I  burst  out  laughing  in  perfect  good  faith.  It  was 
very  well  for  the  Duchess  de  Duras  to  forget  me ;  but,  for  my- 
self, I  never  think  of  her  without  recalling  the  utter  failure  I 
made  in  her  hotel.  I  felt  gauche,  embarrassed,  absurd.  I  did 
not  know  to  whom  to  speak,  and  I  did  not  understand  the 
others.  It  was  one  of  the  strangest  experiences  of  my  life. 
It  seems  to  me  that  I  told  you  about  it  at  Paris. 

I  cannot  yet  satisfy  all  the  anxieties  of  your  friendship  on 
my  account.  What  you  say  has  certainly  been  said  here,  and 
many  other  things  besides ;  but  nothing  is  decided,  nor  even 
probable.  What  amuses  me  is  your  idea  about  Rome.1  I 
shall  amuse  you,  too,  some  day,  by  telling  you  what  other 
person,  or  personage,  has  conceived  the  same  idea.  In  effect, 
as  far  as  I  personally  am  concerned,  nothing  would  suit  me 
better ;  but  the  slightest  observation  of  my  surroundings  will 
reveal  to  you  obstacles  which  are  almost  insurmountable. 
This  permanent  separation  from  my  son  is  a  species  of  damna- 
tion :  I  cannot  think  of  it  without  rage. 

1  Mme.  Swetchine  was  surprised  that  M.  de  Maistrc  was  not  ap- 
pointed ambassador  to  the  sovereign  pontiff. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  181 

You  say  what  is  very  pleasant  and  very  true,  whether 
agreeable  to  reason  or  not.  Poor  woman !  It  is  too  true : 
she  is  always  accused  of  thwarting  us  at  every  point. 

Adieu,  iny  good,  my  excellent,  my  esteemed  Irieud.  Do  not 
forget  that  1  cannot  do  without  your  regard  and  your  affection. 
My  thoughts  will  always  follow  you.  My  heart  will  ever  feel 
the  value  of  yours. 

Rest  your  aching  head  upon  some  soft  cushion.  Sleep 
sweetly.  Genius  and  virtue  will  shield  you  from  every  evil 
dream.  I  kiss  your  hands  reverentially,  as  well  as  those  of 
your  amiable  companion,  —  with  her  permission. 

I  beg  that  you  will  not  fail  to  forward  the  enclosed  hymn. 
It  can  go  by  the  post,  if  there  is  no  other  way.  What  you 
tell  me  about  the  probable  arrangement  of  your  affairs,  en- 
chants me.  May  it  quickly  emerge  from  the  sphere  of  possi- 
bilities into  that  of  realities !  My  respects,  if  you  please,  to 
your  husband. 

TUKIN,  July  22, 1818. 

MY  GOOD  SOPHIE,  —  Though  suffering  the  acutest  grief,  I 
have  strength  enough  remaining  to  inquire  the  reason  of  your 
silence.  On  the  24th  of  last  December,  1  wrote  to  you  in 
Moscow,  whence  you  yourself  had  written  me,  but  received 
no  reply.  On  the  2d  of  last  May,  I  wrote  you  again  at  Vienna, 
in  the  care  of  M.  Artaud :  still  no  answer. 

I  have  lost  my  brother,  the  Bishop  of  Aosta.  He  has  just 
died  in  my  arms.  We  were  planning  a  fraternal  re-union  lor 
the  19th.  Almost  all  my  family  were  collecting  from  different 
parts  of  the  empire,  to  enjoy  at  my  house  one  of  those  un- 
speakable meetings  of  which  we  have  been  so  long  deprived. 
On  the  morning  of  the  18th,  he  who  was  chief  among  us  died 
after  an  illness  of  only  four  or  five  hours,  which  we  had  taken 
for  a  trifling  indisposition.  Wre  are  desolate,  thunder-struck, 
—  more  dead  than  he!  A  famous  orator,  apostle,  theologian, 
and  man  of  the  world,  as  much  admired  at  Geneva  as  among 
ourselves;  an  excellent  brother ;  my  childhood's  friend,  —  this 
is  what  I  have  lost.  Ah,  madarae,  it  is  a  terrible  blow !  It  is 
with  difficulty  that  I  pen  these  lines,  which  I  cannot  extend ; 
but  I  was  unwilling  to  lose  the  opportunity.  Pity  me  ;  and,  if 
you  have  not  forgotten  me,  tell  me  so. 

If  you  were  here,  would  you  not  be  in  the  very  room  where 
I  write  ?  I  kiss  your  hand,  while  I  bathe  it  with  my  tears. 

M.  de  Maistre  did  not  long  survive  the  Bishop  of  Aosta. 
He  died  011  the  26th  of  February,  1821,  at  the  age  of 


182  LIFE    OF  MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

sixty-seven,  in  the  fulness  of  his  powers,  but  oppressed 
by  sad  forebodings  of  the  future  of  Italy  and  France.  His 
portrait,  which  Mme.  Swetchine  kept  constantly  before  her, 
was  hung  in  her  favorite  saloon,  between  that  of  the  Coun- 

O  ' 

tess  de  Nesselrode  and  that  of  the  Duchess  de  Duras. 
The  three  pictures  were  wrought  by  different  artists,  and 
in  different  countries  ;  but,  by  a  singular  coincidence,  they 
were  of  precisely  the  same  dimensions,  as  if  their  prox- 
imity had  been  fore-ordained.  The  memory  of  M.  de 
Maistre  continued,  so  to  speak,  to  brood  above  the  life  of 
Mme.  Swetchine.  We  shall  have  occasion  to  remark  here- 
after the  deep  feeling  which  his  name  never  failed  to 
awaken,  and  to  see  how  indissolubly  the  great  soul  re- 
mained attached  to  the  great  memory. 

Among  many  attractions  which  contributed  their  share 
towards  fixing  the  residence  of  Mme.  Swetchine  in  France, 
we  may  safely  affirm,  that  the  first  and  strongest  was  the 
freedom,  the  dignity,  and  the  charity  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  calmly  con- 
templated religion  in  all  the  majesty  of  its  social  achieve- 
ments and  institutions,  came  in  contact  with  minds  as 
vigorous  as  her  own,  and  felt  herself  understood.  In  seek- 
ing a  director  for  her  soul,  however,  Mme.  Swetchine  had 
regard  neither  to  brilliancy  of  position  nor  the  prestige  of 
eloquence.  A  venerable  ecclesiastic  —  the  Abbe  Desjar- 
dins  —  was  living  under  the  shadow  of  the  towers  of  Notre 
Dame,  in  a  modest  retreat,  laboriously  occupied  and 
piously  absorbed  by  the  incessant  duties  of  his  apostolate. 
Mme.  Swetchine  obtained  an  introduction  to  him,  and  per- 
haps it  would  be  proper  to  confine  ourselves  to  this  simple 
statement ;  but  after  we  have  displayed,  in  the  correspon- 
dence of  Mme.  de  Duras,  the  homage  paid  her  by  rank 
and  wealth,  is  it  not  fair  to  show,  in  the  tender  regard  of 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  183 

the  humble  priest,  a  reflection  of  the  first  years  of  Mme. 
Swetchine's  Catholic  life  ?  Is  it  not  also  just  to  honor  in 
M.  Desjardins  the  exquisite  type  of  the  old  French  clergy, 
and  recall  to  the  mind  of  a  generation  somewhat  prone  to 
forgetfulness  its  potent  qualities  of  meekness,  urbanity,  and 
self-devotion  ? 

The  first  letter  of  the  Abbe  Desjardins  is  dated  previ- 
ous to  Mme.  Swetchine's  journey  to  Russia.  An  ac- 
quaintance with  her  of  less  than  a  year  had  been  enough 
to  inspire  him  to  write  as  follows :  — 

MY  VERY  DEAR  AND    GOOD   DAUGHTER,  —  It   is   by  force  of 

habit  that  I  give  you  the  second  epithet,  and  because,  up  to  this 
time,  you  have  deserved  it  in  a  remarkable  degree.  But,  if  it 
were  possible  for  you  to  forfeit  it,  you  would  do  so  to-day. 
Certainly,  it  was  no  good  angel  who  inspired  you  to  make  me  a 
superb  present.  Would  such  an  one  have  suggested  to  you  to 
engrave  upon  silver  gilt  what  your  heart  had  to  say  to  mine  ? 
If  you  only  knew  how  this  outlay  wounds  me  !  A  trifle,  such 
as  you  are  accustomed  to  offer,  would  have  been  much  more 
flattering.  Still,  the  dread  of  wounding  your  feelings  induces 
me  to  keep  your  gift.  After  all,  it  is  a  memorial  of  your  affec- 
tion, and  I  will  read  the  inscription  over  every  day,  if  only  to 
correct  it. 

I  want  to  put  my  own  principles  in  practice.  I  shall  offer 
you  no  splendid  gift,  yet  one  which  will  not  be  without  its 
value  to  you,  —  a  reliquary,  made  from  the  wood  of  the  true 
cross,  which  I  have  carried  in  a  little  portfolio,  and  used  for 
six  years,  and  which  I  had  with  me  in  my  imprisonment.1  I 
add  a  book  from  my  poor  library,  and  present  these  offerings 
along  with  my  tender  farewells.  There  is  also  a  book  of  medi- 
tations for  good  Nadine :  it  is  all  simple,  like  my  own  soul. 

You  are  going  away :  shall  I  ever  see  you  again  in  this 
world  of  sorrow  and  care  ?  We  know  not,  neither  you  nor  I. 
Let  us  both  strive  after  a  meeting  in  a  better  land.  Let  us 
emulate  one  another  in  the  love  of  Him  who  has  bought  so 
dearly  the  right  to  our  affection. 

I  cannot  let  you  go  without  informing  you  of  some  events 
which  are  likely  to  alter  my  position.  You  only,  of  all  the 

1  Under  the  empire,  during  the  persecutions  of  Pius  VII. 


184  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

world,  know  that  the  bishopric  of  Blois  was  offered  to  me,  and 
tbat  I  felt  obliged  to  refuse  it :  although  I  have  procured  for 
my  best  friend  the  adjoining  one  of  Orleans.  Afterward,  I 
was  offered  either  the  cure  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  or  a  place 
in  the  bishopric,  with  a  salary  of  ten  thousand  francs  and  an 
honorable  title.  I  have  not  made  my  choice.  It  seems  that 
one  place  or  the  other  will  be  given  me ;  a  matter  which  I 
leave  to  my  superiors,  though  I  have  begged  them  to  leave  me 
in  peace.  I  would  not  allow  my  daughter,  who  is  at  the  same 
time  my  worthy  and  honored  friend,  to  remain  ignorant  of 
this ;  and  I  beseech  her  never  to  think  of  me  without  a  prayer 
for  my  eternal  safety.  Adieu  !  You  may  rely  on  my  promise  : 
I  will  never  approach  the  sacred  altar  without  presenting  your 
name  along  with  my  sacrifice.  Be  so  kind  as  to  give  Mile. 
Nadine  my  magnificent  present,  and  assure  her  that  I  do  not 
wish  to  see  her  parted  from  you.  Allow  me  also  to  retain  my 
place  with  you.  DESJARDINS. 

This  18th  of  August,  1814. 

P.S.  —  The  blessings  of  the  poor  of  my  parish  are  added  to 
my  own  gratitude  for  your  kind  care  of  them.  Do  not  forget 
the  Rue  des  Brodeurs  at  St.  Petersburg,  where  you  never 
went  but  to  do  good. 

Neither  the  friends  nor  the  superiors  of  the  Abbe  Des- 
jardins  could  overcome  his  modesty ;  and  he  persisted  in 
refusing  the  episcopal  dignities,  as  he  here  states  in  such 
simple  terms.  They  were  unwilling,  however,  that  his 
light  should  remain  entirely  hidden ;  and,  on  Mme.  Swet- 
chine's  return  to  France,  she  found  him  grand-vicar  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  along  with  M.  de  Quelen,  who  al- 
ways professed  and  retained  the  tenderest  veneration  for 
him.  M.  de  Que"len  himself  had  recently  been  appointed 
co-adjutor  of  the  Cardinal  de  Perigord,  who  died,  at  a  very 
advanced  age,  in  the  month  of  March,  1821. 

The  majority  of  the  ensuing  notes  from  the  Abbe  Des- 
jardins  are  undated,  and  no  attempt  has  been  made  to 
arrange  them  methodically.  Their  value  lies  in  their  tone 
of  feeling  and  charm  of  expression. 


LIFE   OP   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  18o" 

I  consecrate  to  God  the  first  moment  of  the  new  year ;  and 
to  you,  the  second,  my  amiable  and  indulgent  daughter.  Upon 
my  prie-Dieu, — having  finished  my  orisons,  but  while  still 
upon  my  knees,  —  I  oner  you  my  vows;  or  rather  I  address 
my  supplications  to  our  common  Master,  that  he  will  open 
wide  his  hands,  and  bestow  on  you  the  treasures  of  his  pity. 

I  learn  from  little  L.  some  circumstances  which  will  give 
pain  to  your  household,  and  oblige  the  Prince  and  Princess  to 
adopt  other  plans  for  the  education  of  their  dear  children.  I 
advise  with  L.,  and  reserve  the  right  of  a  father  and  an  old 
man  to  lecture  him.  The  little  man  has  upset  my  first  surprise. 
"  He  has  sucked  no  bears'  marrow,"  as  they  say.  Pu.  D. 


You  are  here,  then,  my  best  and  worthiest  friend !  How  I 
shall  delight  to  see  you,  and  repair,  by  a  little  chat,  the  void 
of  your  long  absence !  I  shall  come  to  see  you ;  but,  at  all 
events,  you  may  be  sure  of  finding  me  at  the  Archbishop's 
palace  to-morrow,  and  Wednesday  until  noon.  Thursday  I 
am  at  the  Missions  from  early  morning  till  half-past  one. 
I  am  tormented,  and  must  quit  you  abruptly  for  some  tiresome 
people,  who  know  not  that  they  are  so.  My  best  respects. 

What  an  event  was  that  yesterday  at  St.  Genevieve  ! l  A 
princess,  who  had  never  appeared  in  higher  health,  falls  ill,  and 
is  taken  out  a  corpse.  I  am  so  shaken  by  the  blow,  that  I  have 
only  strength  to  cry  for  mercy.  Let  him  who  standeth  realize 
that  he  may  fall,  and  fall  stone-dead,  with  no  further  prepara- 
tion than  that  afforded  by  blooming  health. 

I  will  be  ready  for  you  to-morrow,  if  it  be  still  allowable  to 
put  any  thing  ofi  till  to-morrow.  PH.  D. 


I  have,  indeed,  received  the  letter  of  my  dear  and  worthy 
daughter  and  friend,  but  I  have  not  seen  young  Gravel ; 
and  I  must  see  him  before  I  can  talk  the  matter  over  with  you, 
O  best,  kindest,  and  most  generous  of  creatures ! 

I  shall  pay  my  respects  as  soon  as  there  are  more  than 
twenty-four  hours  in  the  day ;  for  I  get  behindhand  a  little  at 
each  turn  of  the  wheel.  Still  I  want  very  much  to  see  you. 
Receive  the  assurance  of  my  respectful  affection.  PH.  D. 


1  The  death  of  the  Duchess  of  Bourbon. 


186  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

MY    EXCELLENT    DAUGHTER    AND    FRIEND, — You    Will    do 

me  a  great  favor  by  sending  me  some  news  of  yourself:  I  was 
sure  you  were  suffering.  God  only  spares  those  of  whom  he 
can  make  nothing,  as  the  architect  does  not  cut  the  stones 
which  he  cannot  use  for  building.  I  am  using  the  language  of 
dedication.  Let  us  celebrate  the  service  to-morrow.  Let  us 
reconsecrate  the  temple, — the  true  temple  worthy  of  God's 
presence,  the  pure  mind  and  the  heart  which  glows  for  him 
alone.  Adieu !  Accept  my  respects  for  yourself  and  the 
Princess. 


MY  VERY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  am  distressed  by  your  useless 
journeys.  Will  you  come  Monday  at  one  o'clock?  I  will  be 
at  home  to  you  alone.  Come  at  noon  even.  We  shall  have  a 
little  leisure  to  speak  of  what  is  near  our  hearts,  which  com- 
prehend, and  will  always  comprehend,  one  another  so  perfectly. 
I  would  that  you  might  have  nothing  but  consolations :  but 
God  does  not  will  this,  and  so  it  cannot  be  best  for  you ;  for 
he  is  good,  and  understands  our  affairs  thoroughly.  We  will 
never  cease  to  confide  them  to  him,  and  to  love  him ;  and 
that  will  be  some  compensation  for  the  loneliness  to  which  the 
pettiness  of  this  life  condemns  us.  The  King  came  here 
yesterday  in  procession.  He  had  the  extreme  goodness  to 
stop,  and  ask  after  my  health  with  the  grace  you  know  to  be 
his.  The  Dauphin  did  the  same,  and  even  the  Dauphiness. 
'Tis  a  pitch  of  favor  which  takes  away  my  breath,  when  I  con- 
sider my  own  insignificance  in  comparison  with  such  a  distinc- 
tion. But,  thank  God !  I  do  not  think  I  am  puffed  up  by  it. 
Monday,  at  about  noon !  I  pray  without  ceasing  for  my  excellent 
daughter  and  friend. 


MY  VERY  DEAR   DAUGHTER  AND  WORTHY  FRIEND,  —  I   am 

tormented  with  remorse  for  having  left  almost  without  warning, 
and  without  bidding  you  adieu.  Yes,  I  have  quitted  Paris, 
Conflans,  the  Seine,  and  the  world,  to  come  and  draw  breath  at 
Courteille.1  One  feels  as  if  one  had  said  good-by  to  the 
universe  in  this  beautiful  retreat.  The  earth  and  its  creatures 
are  wholly  changed.  Nothing  here  resembles  what  is  left  be- 

1  Courteille  was  the  home  of  the  Countess  de  Courteille,  who  lived  there 
with  her  daughter,  the  Marquise  de  Kouchehouart,  and  her  grand-daugh- 
ter, the  Duchess  de  Richelieu. 


LIFE    OP   M1DAME    SWETCHINE.  187 

hind,  unless  it  ie  the  heart  and  the  faculty  of  loving;  for 
there  are  hearts  in  this  place  which  are  very  kind,  and  own  a 
benevolence  marvellously  like  friendship. 

And  then  you  draw  breath  in  the  sweetest  shades,  and  ram- 
ble about,  without  either  climbing  or  descending,  by  a  variety  of 
paths  which  communicate  with  one  another,  and  only  take  you 
back  to  the  house  when  you  have  lost  your  way.  You  will  say 
that  it  is  a  small  merit  in  a  garden  to  have  no  rising  ground,  not 
even  an  apparent  precipice ;  but,  dear,  you  are  not  sixty-six 
years  old,  and  the  proprietors  with  whom  I  am  staying  are 
eighty  and  more  :  besides,  I  shall  have  enough  of  hills  and  valleys 
when  I  return ;  so  let  me  take  comfort  in  the  smoothness  and 
the  level  walking. 

I  am  reading  a  sort  of  pamphlet  which  amuses  me,  but 
which  I  should  like  to  read  by  your  side.  It  is  Rulhieres  on 
the  Revolution  in  Russia  which  raised  Catharine  to  the  throne. 
I  must  acknowledge  that  I  am  horrified  by  all  I  read ;  and  what 
I  want  to  know  is,  whether  it  be  true.  As  for  the  results,  they 
are  indisputable ;  but  the  details  seem  to  me  to  have  been 
made  up  by  some  profligate,  for  the  sake  of  bringing  contempt 
and  hatred  upon  the  authorities. 


MY  DEAR  DAUGHTER  AND  INCOMPARABLE  FRIEND,  —  I  have 
received,  read,  and  pressed  to  my  lips,  your  little  letter  from 
Vichy,  dated  the  nineteenth  of  the  present  month.  I  hasten  to 
reply,  helpless  as  I  am.  Fortunately,  I  am  less  so  in  my  hands 
than  in  my  legs,  which  are  larger,  just  now,  than  a  young  lady's 
waist.  Whence  comes  this  ?  you  will  say.  Ah,  whence  comes 
it  ?  Whence  comes  the  wind  ?  It  is  the  wind  that  has  caused 
all  the  mischief,  and  compelled  me  to  accomplish  in  a  few  days 
a  very  different  journey  from  that  to  Mount  Dor£.  In  short,  it 
was  a  case  of  perspiration  checked  suddenly  by  an  icy  chill. 
Then  came  paroxysms  of  fever,  bloodletting,  emetics,  purging, 
convalesence,  and  swelling  of  the  limbs,  which  it  is  to  be  hoped 
will  close  the  comedy.  The  Archbishop  has  taken  me  to 
C'onllans,  where  I  am  resting,  and  whence  I  reply  to  all  your 
affronts. 

It  is  not  decided  that  the  journey  to  Mount  Dore"  shall  take 
place.  The  Faculty  is  deliberating.  Let  us  await  its  oracle. 
I  await  it  resignedly,  and  find  myself  as  well  here  as  at  the 
waters.  Do  not  think,  my  dear  daughter,  for  all  my  pretended 
insensibility,  that  I  can  pass  by  Vichy  without  halting  for  a 
few  hours  to  assure  myself  that  the  waters  are  doing  you 


188  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

good.  I  wish  my  doctors  would  send  me  to  Vichy :  the 
pleasure  of  being  with  you  would  cure  me.  I  hope  our  time 
may  not  have  been  lost,  and  that  we  shall  encourage  one 
another  to  turn  the  miseries  of  life  to  good  account  for  eternity. 
Ah,  my  dear  daughter,  how  the  view  of  that  boundless  future 
enlarges  the  soul,  and  makes  it  long  impatiently  for  the  break- 
ing of  its  chain  !  How  long  and  hard  our  exile  seems  to  me  ! 
When  will  our  time  come  to  fly  away  to  our  native  land  ? 

PH.  D. 


Yes,  yes,  my  dear  daughter  and  incomparable  friend, 
go  to  God,  who  is  our  protector  and  our  all,  and  render 
thanks  for  the  varied  benefits  which  he  has  been  bestowing  ever 
since  we  came  into  the  world. 

I  was  going  to  offer  thanks  to  him  for  you  and  for  me,  when 
people  came,  and  I  had  to  quit  his  presence.  But  he  is  every- 
where. In  these  days  of  ice  and  hoar-frost,  he  receives  us  by 
the  fireside,  even  by  our  own,  repairing  thither  in  his 
goodness. 

Receive  my  wishes  for  the  opening  year.  I  ought  to  think 
that  this  will  be  my  last.  "  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him 
hear."  Pray,  my  dear  friend,  that  my  end  may  be  peace,  and 
continue  to  lay  up  treasure  for  a  few  years  more.  One  can 
never  have  enough.  Forgive  my  idle  hand  and  worn-out 
brain.  My  heart  remains,  and  is  still  true :  you  hold  in  it  the 
next  place  to  our  Master.  Adieu ! 


MY    VERY    DEAR    DAUGHTER    AND    EXCELLENT    FRIEXD, 

Our  Lord,  I  think,  will  find  wholly  superfluous  the  account 
which  you  expect  to  have  to  render  him.  I  shall  give  it 
him  at  once,  and  transmit  any  message  he  may  have  for 
you. 

I  learn  that  you  are  suffering,  and  that  you  have  bad 
nights.  If  I  were  less  feeble,  I  would  tell  you  all  that  is  in  my 
heart  towards  you ;  but  I  am  sinking  away.  Pray  for  your 
dying  friend. 

To  this  fatherly  guidance,  so  precious  to  Mme.  Swet- 
chine,  deeper  friendships  were  added,  day  by  day.  The 
connections  formed  with  the  Duchess  de  Duras  and  in  her 
salon  were  enlarged  and  fortified  by  intimacies  born  of  the 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  189 

community  of  all  lofty  inspirations.  By  the  side  of  M.  Cu- 
vier  and  his  family,  M.  de  Gerando  and  M.  Abel  Remusat, 
ranged  themselves  the  Viscount  de  Bonald,  the  Count  de 
Divonne,  the  Baron  Eckstein,  the  Marquis  of  Quinsonnas. 
The  Marquise  de  Pastoret,  the  Duchess  de  la  Rochefou- 
cauld, the  Duchess  de  Damas,  the  Duchess  de  Maille,  the 
Marquise  de  Lillers,  the  Countess  de  Saint  Aulaire,  and 
the  Countess  Octave  de  Segur  were  already  being  drawn 
towards  the  two  sisters  of  the  Duke  de  Richelieu  by  the  tie 
of  a  common  affection,  and  the  sway  of  a  common  charm. 
This  grand  naturalization  of  intellect  and  heart  had  already 
transformed  the  salon  of  the  Russian  stranger  into  one  of 
the  most  select  and  delightful  firesides  of  the  best  French 
society,  when  an  incident  in  her  private  life  caused  Mme. 
Swetchine  suddenly  to  resolve  upon  a  journey  which  she 
herself  considered  in  the  light  of  a  second  expatriation. 

Nadine  Staeline  had  never  left  her  adopted  mother,  and 
had  grown  into  an  accomplished  and  attractive  young  lady. 
The  Countess  Octave  de  Segur  had  three  sons.  The 
youngest  of  the  three,  Raymond  de  Segur  d'Auguesseau, 
astonished  at  once  his  mother  and  her  friends  by  making 
known  his  fixed  determination  to  marry  Mile.  Staeline, 
foreigner  though  she  was,  and  in  feeble  health.  Mme. 
Swetchine,  who  was  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  make 
use  of  an  affection  to  promote  an  interest,  no  sooner  learned 
the  sentiments  of  young  De  Segur,  than  she  began  to 
reproach  herself  severely  for  not  having  foreseen  and  dis- 
couraged them.  She  did  not  confine  herself  to  the  resist- 
ances and  remonstrances  of  a  frigid  reason,  but  determined 
to  sacrifice  herself,  —  to  quit  France,  and  not  to  return 
thither  till  she  had  tried  the  effect  of  absence  and  forget- 
fulness.  In  selecting  the  place  of  her  voluntary  exile,  Mme. 
Swetchine  turned  her  eyes  towards  Italy,  lured  thither 


190  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

by  her  religious  fervor,  her  passionate  fondness  for  study, 
and  the  presence  of  her  sister.  Her  absence,  and  the  situ- 
ation which  necessitated  it,  lasted  two  years. 

Some  fragments  of  the  correspondence  of  Mme.  Swet- 
chine  during  this  journey  have  been  preserved.  They  may 
speak  for  themselves :  — 

TO  THE  MAKQUISE  DE  MONTCALM. 

TURIN,  Sept.  24, 1823. 

How  happy  I  was  to  find  a  letter  from  you  here !  and  how 
much  I  thank  you  for  letting  me  hear  the  sound  of  a  friendly 
voice  in  the  midst  of  this  crowded  solitude !  Absence  has  a 
marvellous  effect  in  assigning  things  to  their  true  places.  If  I 
had  undertaken  the  present  journey  for  any  purposes  of  pleas- 
ure, or  curiosity  even,  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  should  have 
turned  back  a  hundred  times.  This  necessity  for  looking  out 
for  one's  time  and  one's  money  every  moment  is  intolerable ; 
and  the  prose  of  travelling  encroaches  so  far  upon  its  poetry, 
that  our  best  moments  seem  to  be  too  dearly  bought.  You  can- 
not imagine  the  petty  vexations  to  which  one  has  to  submit  in 
the  cities.  Everywhere  a  jealous  and  annoying  surveillance  re- 
minds one  of  the  most  troublous  times.  Every  official  exceeds 
his  duty  in  order,  apparently,  to  be  sure  that  he  fulfils  it. 
What  a  pitiful  arrangement !  and  how  many  suspicious  circum- 
stances may  be  discovered  when  one  is  on  the  watch  for  them ! 

Savoy,  in  spite  of  its  severity  of  aspect,  struck  me  as  charm- 
ing. Its  lofty  mountains  prepare  one  insensibly  for  the  majes- 
tic grandeur  of  the  Alps.  As  you  come  down  on  the  Piedmont 
side,  the  transition  is  abrupt.  Three  hours  after  leaving  the 
Convent  of  Mont  Cenis,  I  found  myself  in  the  pleasant  little 
town  of  Suza,  in  the  midst  of  a  square,  still  enlivened  by  a  fair 
which  had  taken  place  the  night  before ;  and,  two  paces  from 
my  window,  a  rope  was  stretched,  on  which  a  mountebank  was 
exercising  his  talent.  Every  thing  along  the  route  I  have  fol- 
lowed reminds  one  of  France.  Savoy  is  wholly  French,  and 
Piedmont  half  so.  The  Savoyard  often  speaks  French  better 
than  the  French  peasant  himself;  and  the  Piedmontese  mingles 
it  with  his  bad  Italian.  But  how  incomplete  the  illusion  is  !  and 
how  often  am  I  reminded  that  I  am  outside  that  dear  France 
which  no  foreigner  ever  loved  as  I  do  !  I  shall  write  you  from 
Florence,  perhaps  sooner;  and,  meanwhile,  I  beg  you  often 
to  recall  the  fact,  that  the  slightest  proofs  of  your  remembrance 
are  infinitely  dear  to  me.  lo-day,  the  Austrian  troops  finally 
evacuate  the  Sardinian  territory. 


LIFE   OF    MADAME    SWETCDINE.  191 


FLORENCE,  Oct.  31, 1823. 

With  the  exception  of  three  or  four  days  passed  pleasantly 
at  Geneva,  my  journey,  since  leaving  Turin,  has  been  painful, 
and  the  latter  part  of  the  way  even  dangerous.  I  would  de- 
scribe it,  had  I  not  determined  to  spare  you,  the  mountains,  the 
torrents,  and  the  sea,  —  all  the  grand  effects,  in  short,  which  are 
particularly  agreeable  to  those  impassioned  natures  whom  you 
desire  never  to  hear  mentioned  again.  The  farther  I  penetrate 
into  this  country,  the  more  I  regret  not  having  seen  it  ten  years 
earlier.  I  might  not  have  observed  it  to  better  purpose,  but  I 
should  certainly  have  enjoyed  it  more.  Italy  has  all  the  bright- 
ness, all  the  naivete,  and  all  the  inspiration,  of  youth ;  and  I 
feel  that  it  is  impossible  to  arrive  at  a  just  appreciation  of  her 
by  judging  her  coolly.  It  is  not  enough  to  be  transiently  en- 
chanted by  the  contemplation  of  her  treasures.  We  must  for- 
get every  thing  under  her  skies,  and  be  so  fascinated  by  the 
twofold  enchantment  of  nature  and  of  art,  that  we  shall  be 
absorbed  in  our  pleasant  emotions,  and  scarcely  heed  those 
which  are  painful.  I  am  very  far  from  this  state,  and  am  con- 
stantly lapsing  from  the  enthusiasm  which  certain  objects  excite 
in  me  to  the  severity  called  forth  by  certain  facts.  It  is  from 
a  heart  thoroughly  French  that  I  thank  God  for  this  happy 
issue '  of  the  great  undertaking.  The  King  of  France  is  now 
restored  for  the  third  time  to  his  throne  ;  and  I  hope  this  time 
all  is  well.  This  success  ought  so  to  strengthen  the  -govern- 
ment, that  it  may  be  confident  of  reducing  friends  and  enemies 
alike  if  it  will,  and  of  making  them  walk  in  those  ways  of  wis- 
dom and  moderation  which  thus  far  have  appeared  to  suit 
neither  party.  This  is  no  reason  for  despairing  of  their  cause  ; 
for  I  see  so  many  people  who  mismanage  their  own  affairs,  that 
I  consider  it  an  immense  gain  not  to  be  one's  own  worst  enemy. 
Who  can  say  as  much  of  us  ?  Alas  !  not  I  nor  you. 


ROME,  Dec.  2, 1823. 

My  sorrow  for  having  neglected  writing  to  you  so  long 
ought  to  move  your  heart,  if  you  had  not  made  it  the  most  selfish 
thing  possible  by  persuading  me  that  I  have  no  chance  of  a 
word  from  you  which  I  have  not  provoked.  The  truth  is,  that, 
as  to  affection  and  the  marks  thereof,  you  are  still  under  the 
old  regime ;  and  all  my  gratitude  for  the  note  I  have  just  re- 


1  The  deliverance  of  the  King  of  Spain. 


192  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

ceived  cannot  obliterate  my  regret  for  the  silence  which  pre- 
ceded, and  that  which  will  probably  follow  it.  This  frame  of 
mind  will  not  let  me  enjoy  the  present ;  and  I  should  forgive 
you  more  readily,  it  may  be,  if  this  habit  of  yours  were  not  the 
effect  of  a  system  which  you  ought  to  have  sacrificed  to  common 
sense,  as  I  have  done.  My  journey  hither  occupied  about 
eight  days ;  and,  immediately  after  my  arrival.  I  became  so  ill, 
that,  for  ten  or  twelve  days,  I  was  incapable  of  the  slightest 
exertion,  and  could  only  enjoy  the  delight  of  finding  myself 
once  more  quite  en  famille,  warming  myself  in  the  rays  of  the 
bright  sun  of  Rome,  and  reposing,  in  short,  upon  the  breast  of 
that  dolce  far  niente  which  has  its  value  even  under  the  most 
unfavorable  auspices.  I  find  they  have  a  charming  establish- 
ment.1 They  have  fitted  up  simply,  but  in  very  good  taste,  one 
of  these  Roman  palaces,2  which  cost  no  more  than  very  common 
lodgings  at  Paris,  and  are  thus  enabled  to  unite  in  their  dwell- 
ing the  peculiar  advantages  of  both  countries,  —  comfort  and 
beauty.  The  hall  where  we  dine  is  covered  with  frescoes  by 
Albano ;  and,  at  the  foot  of  the  courtyard,  we  have  a  fountain 
which  elsewhere  would  adorn  a  public  square.  The  magnifi- 
cence of  the  buildings,  and  the  materials  employed  in  them,  is 
incredible.  These  marble  columns  explain  the  taste  for  porti- 
cos. Surely,  I  have  not  been  insensible  to  what  I  have  hitherto 
seen  in  Italy ;  but  it  is  nothing,  compared  with  the  lively,  pro- 
found, and  ineffaceable  impression  made  by  Rome.  She  is  the 
queen  of  cities ;  a  world  apart  from  that  which  we  have 
known,  where  all  is  unlike  what  we  encounter  elsewhere,  whose 
beauties  and  contrasts  are  of  so  lofty  an  order,  that  one  is 
wholly  unprepared  for  them ;  and  their  effect  can  neither  be 
imagined  nor  described.  Every  lack  we  find  at  Rome  adds  to 
the  impression  she  produces.  One  would  not  see  her  Cam- 
pagna  cultivated,  her  well-nigh  deserted  suburbs  repeopled, 
or  the  inhabited  portion  of  the  city  enlarged.  Rome,  bearing 
the  impress  of  antiquity,  must  needs  be  a  little  sad  to  corre- 
spond with  so  much  subverted  power  and  grandeur  in  the  dust. 
1  our  ideas  are  enlarged  here,  your  emotions  more  deeply  re- 
ligious ;  your  heart  is  at  peace  ;  you  hardly  dare  to  suffer  in  the 
sight  of  spots  which  recall  so  much  suffering,  nor  fail  in  forti- 
tude where  so  much  has  been  shown. 

I  have  found  the  Duke  de  Laval,3  to  my  great  joy ;  and  he 
makes  himself  very  agreeable  to  us.     We  see  him  often ;  his 

1  Prince  and  Princess  Gargarin. 

2  Palazzo  Verospi,  Corso. 

8  Ambassador  of  France  to  the  Holy  See. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  193 

society  is  genial ;  and  he  is  a  good  conversationist,  if  only 
because  he  enjoys  conversation  so  much.  The  Duke  de  Rohan1 
has  also  been  to  see  me.  He  is  less  savage  at  Rome,  and  has 
promised  not  to  be  at  all  so  to  us.  Nothing,  assuredly,  could 
place  him  higher  in  the  public  esteem  than  the  mode  of  life 
which  he  has  embraced.  It  suits  his  mind ;  and,  fortunately 
for  him,  his  manners  are  adapted  to  it.  We  talked  much  of 
you,  —  he  with  infinite  interest,  and  I,  as  you  may  guess,  with 
even  more. 


ROME,  Dec.  17, 1823. 

How  shall  I  describe  the  lively  impressions  which  succeeded 
one  another  during  my  first  excursion  in  Rome, — the  charm- 
ing variety  of  views,  the  interest  increasing  at  every  step  ?  I 
seemed  to  myself  to  be  in  a  new  world,  and  with  reason ;  for 
Rome  comprehends  within  its  vast  boundary  all  which  else- 
where you  must  go  far  to  seek, — city  and  country,  the  noise  of 
the  multitude  and  the  most  silent  solitude.  Yet  there  are  no 
abrupt  transitions  here.  Nowhere  do  you  find  a  wearisome 
melange  of  objects  not  in  harmony  with  one  another :  one 
would  say  that  every  thing  has  been  arranged  with  a  view  to 
imparting  the  most  perfect  unity  to  the  picture,  and  rendering 
the  study  of  it  easiest.  St.  Peter's,  the  Vatican,  and  all  its  ap- 
pendages, form  a  complete  whole.  Returning  from  the  Palatine 
Hill,  the  abode  of  the  Caesars,  you  pass  the  circuses,  the  race- 
courses, the  hot  baths  which  belonged  to  their  palaces ;  and 
all  the  Republic  is  still  living  in  the  Forum,  and  the  Coliseum, 
which  adjoins  it.  Not  only  are  the  objects  grand  and  beautiful 
in  themselves,  but  they  are  beautifully  and  poetically  arranged ; 
all  the  historic  epochs  are  in  view  at  once,  each  separate  and 
distinct.  Each  appears  to  have  impressed  its  own  character 
on  its  surviving  monument,  to  have  its  own  proper  horizon, 
and,  so  to  speak,  its  peculiar  atmosphere.  One  feels  here  a 
need  of  living  in  the  past,  which  conflicts  strangely  with  the 
natural  impatience  of  man  to  rush  into  the  future.  He  is 
struggling  with  two  eternities ;  and  the  present,  which  still 
he  cannot  escape,  appears  to  him  more  than  ever  fugitive 
and  miserable.  I  beg  your  pardon  for  this  little  attempt  at  a 
sermon  or  an  epic.  One  must  either  say  nothing  about  Rome, 
or  give  vent  to  the  emotions  which  she  unceasingly  excites. 


1  Afterwards  Cardinal  and  Archbishop  of  Besan9on. 
13 


194  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


ROME,  Jan.  9, 1824. 

I  like  Rome  better  and  better,  and  the  kind  of  life  I  lead 
here,  which  is,  in  some  sort,  that  of  a  scholar,  who  has  come 
to  live  in  the  places,  and  with  the  people,  he  has  encountered  in 
his  books.  Those  tastes  of  mine  which  had  slumbered  without 
being  extinguished,  have  taken  on  a  new  life.  I  have  found 
great  resources  here  of  every  description  ;  and,  in  my  calmness 
of  mind  and  general  well-being,  I  am  reaping  the  natural  fruit 
of  a  true  harmony  between  my  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  ex- 
ternal objects.  This  last  test  is  decisive  for  me.  I  see  clearly 
to-day  what  my  self-distrust  has  but  allowed  me  to  suspect 
hitherto ;  viz.,  that  a  very  retired  and  serious  life  is  the  only 
one  which  suits  me  perfectly.  This  discovery  will  follow  me 
to  Paris,  the  seat  of  the  society  which  allures  me  most,  and  the 
thought  of  which  mars  all  my  pleasure.  In  fact,  one  can 
scarcely  propose  to  one's  self  a  more  magnificent  holocaust 
than  that  of  all  the  seductions,  sacred  and  profane,  of  the  Eternal 
City.  If  it  were  only  for  the  charm  of  her  climate,  the  sacrifice 
would  be  worth  something.  Thus  far  we  have  had  no  frost,  and 
but  few  days  when  we  have  not  revelled  in  cloudless  sunshine. 
Winter  here  no  more  precludes  fine  weather  than  troubles  in 
youth  interfere  with  happiness.  I  constantly  take  delicious 
walks  in  the  beautiful  villas  at  the  gates  of  Rome,  which  are  no 
more  like  the  country-houses  of  France  or  Germany  than  Rome 
itself  is  like  other  capitals.  All  the  gardens  here  are  arranged 
with  an  eye  to  the  season  when  we  dispense  with  the  beauties  of 
nature  in  other  places.  Evergreens  are  planted  everywhere ; 
oaks,  cypresses,  and  Italian  pines  (the  most  picturesque  of  all 
trees)  abound ,  all  the  walks  are  tapestried  with  orange  and 
lemon  trees,  which  are  covered  with  fruit  without  losing  any  of 
their  rich  foliage ;  while  we  tread  a  turf  worthy  of  spring. 
Fountains  always  playing,  the  profusion  of  statues,  the  beau- 
tiful architectural  lines,  and  the  horizon  of  mountains  which  you 
might  believe  transparent,  —  these  are  beauties  which  one  must 
come  to  Rome  to  see,  and  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  give  any 
idea.  If  one  could  render  one's  self  independent  of  those  im- 
pressions which  cannot  be  transplanted,  and  which  attach  one 
to  the  spot  which  gave  them  birth,  it  is  surely  here  that  one 
would  pitch  his  tent ;  and  I  am  not  surprised  that  Rome  should 
have  been,  in  all  ages,  the  fatherland  of  those  who  had  lost 
their  own ;  the  true  Elysian  Fields  for  the  shades  of  departed 
power  and  social  distinction. 

I  have  spoken  in  this  letter  only  of  my  joys.  I  could  have 
told  you  also  of  a  grief  which  augments  with  the  arrival  of 
every  courier.  .  .  . 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  195 


ROME,  Feb.  12,  1824. 

My  internal  life  is  perhaps  more  at  Paris  than  at  Rome. 
When  I  come  back,  there  will  have  been  no  interruption  to  it. 
God  grant  that  there  may  be  no  external  change !  I  have 
never  felt  so  keenly  the  need  of  cherishing  the  affections,  and 
resuming  the  habits,  which  are  to  be  those  of  my  life.  Un- 
happily, this  need  of  permanence  is  only  a  personal  matter,  and 
there  is  the  germ  of  all  uncertainty  in  the  circumstances  by 
which  I  am  surrounded.  The  most  imperative  considerations 
press  upon  me.  You  will  easily  understand  them ;  and  the 
only  thing,  I  fear,  you  will  not  understand  is  what  this  is 
costing  me. 

"We  have  noticed  the  feeling  of  identification  with 
France,  which  pervades  all  the  letters  of  Mme.  Swetchine. 
We  find  further  proof  of  it  in  a  letter  addressed  to  the 

Duchess  de  Damas  :  — 

ROME,  Feb.  9, 1824. 

I  owe  to  M.  Dorian,  madame,  one  of  the  greatest  joys  which 
could  have  been  vouchsafed  me, — that  of  talking  of  you  with 
one  who  could  understand  me,  and  of  receiving  a  mark  of  that 
kindness  so  precious  in  my  eyes,  that  it  makes  me  as  proud  as 
grateful.  Among  the  tokens  from  France  which  spoil  all 
other  gifts  for  me,  yours,  madame,  is  associated  with  regrets  to 
which  the  past  itself  is  no  stranger.  Every  moment  by  which 
I  have  failed  fully  to  profit  comes  up  before  my  memory ;  and, 
if  I  were  not  already  too  severely  punished,  I  should  demand 
of  myself  account  of  my  time.  Your  indulgence  for  me,  which 
profanes  —  allow  me  to  say  so  —  expressions  which,  in  their 
full  force,  are  applicable  to  none  but  yourself,  can  only  be 
explained  by  the  deep  reverence  of  which  I  should  have  liked 
to  give  you  better  proof.  I  do  not  think,  madame,  that  I  ever 
left  your  presence  without  saying  to  myself,  that  nothing  could 
be  more  useful  or  delightful  to  me  than  habitual  contact  with  so 
accomplished  a  person.  I  have  shared  your  joy,  and  that  of 
your  daughter,  at  the  return  of  your  grandson,1  and  his  brilliant 
conduct.  It  was  the  indemnification  he  owed  you  for  all  your 
cares  and  solicitude,  and  surely  it  was  a  happy  exchange.  I 
have  been  no  less  interested  than  yourselves  m  the  succession 

1  The  Marquis  de  Vogue",  who  had  distinguished  himself  in  the 
Spanish  campaign. 


196  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

of  events  which  have  recommenced  so  gloriously  the  history  of 
ancient  France ;  and  it  is  with  a  heart  wholly  hers  that  I 
celebrate  all  her  successes.  Alas,  madame  !  I  live  so  constantly 
and  so  actively  in  your  midst,  that  it  almost  unfits  me  for  the 
enjoyments  offered  me  here. 

We  will  return  to  the  correspondence  with  Mme.  de 
Montcalm,  which  will  give  us  the  sequel  of  Mme.  Swet- 
chine's  residence  in  Italy :  — 

ROME,  Feb.  13, 1824. 

.  .  .  If  I  were  ten  years  younger,  I  should  make  light  of  so 
brief  an  interval ;  but,  when  the  future  is  wasting,  it  concen- 
trates itself  into  each  moment,  which  is  bright  or  colorless, 
according  as  it  is  connected  with  our  dominant  life-interests 
or  no. 

When  we  have  renounced  self  in  good  earnest,  and  have 
firmly  resolved  not  to  resume  it  again,  I  know  not  what  sweet 
and  soothing  unction  mingles  with  all  our  sorrows,  and  imparts 
to  us  that  elasticity  which  enables  us  to  rebound  under  blows 
which  would  else  have  been  crushing.  I  find  it  so  inconvenient 
to  have  become  so  utterly  French  at  heart,  that  I  am  doing  my 
best  to  become  thoroughly  Italianized  in  mind.  I  approach 
Rome  from  every  side  ;  I  review  all  her  resources  ;  I  go  deeply 
into  her  literature;  I  am  initiated  into  her  mysteries,  and  the 
marvels  of  her  monuments  and  arts ;  I  study  her  history  under 
this  glorious  sky,  which  seems  to  give  new  life  to  all  it  shines 
upon.  At  every  step,  it  is  necessary  to  pause,  to  study  and  med- 
itate. I  have  already  told  you,  that  all  my  fetes  are  held  in  the 
open  air,  like  those  of  the  ancient  Romans,  and  that  my  seclusion 
from  society  is  complete.  In  the  evening,  I  no  more  stir  from 
my  arm-chair  than  you  from  your  couch ;  and  I  hear  unmoved 
the  recital  of  all  the  gayeties  which  are  in  progress,  and  which 
will,  when  the  carnival  comes,  degenerate  into  absolute  folly. 
A  charming  entertainment  has  just  been  given  by  the  Ambas- 
sadress of  Austria ; l  two  French  comedies  were  enacted,  among 
others ;  and,  of  the  eight  or  ten  men  who  played  in  them,  only 
two  were  of  the  same  nation,  and  not  a  single  one  was  French, 
—  a  fact  which  should  tend,  you  see,  to  strengthen  your  faith 
in  the  universality  of  your  language.  Once  a  week,  there  is  an 
English  tragedy  played  by  the  best  London  company.  It 

1  Countess  Appony,  nft  Nogarola,  afterwards  ambassadress  to  Paris, 
where  she  has  left  an  enduring  memory. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  197 

succeeds  pretty  well,  save  for  an  attempt  at  English  music,  — 
fit  to  outrage  Italian  ears.  Every  evening,  there  is  an  opera, 
a  ball,  or  a  crowded  re-union,  which  always  begins  with  the 
cardinals,  who  must  be  invited  to  every  entertainment  which 
is  given.  They  hew  out  the  block,  and  then  go  away  if  the 
character  of  the  f6te  does  not  suit  them.  The  Duke  de  Rohan, 
whom  I  should  like  even  now  to  see  cardinal,  is  forced,  by  the 
habits  of  this  country,  to  modify  his  own  a  little,  and  exercises 
his  virtue  in  complying  with  custom,  and  conforming  to  the 
world,  — just  as  he  did  before  in  withdrawing  from  it.  He 
enjoys  here  a  well-earned  consideration ;  and,  if  he  obtains  the 
preferment  spoken  of,  he  will  meet  with  even  more  favor  at 
Koine  than  at  Paris.  The  Duke  de  Laval  is  very  conspicuous. 
Mine.  Recainier  is  not  at  all  so,  and  appears  sincerely  to 
prefer  a  life  of  retirement.  I  do  not  think  she  has  aimed  at 
effect ;  and  it  is  fortunate,  for  her  beauty  and  celebrity  are  on 
the  decline.  Ruins  make  no  great  sensation  in  a  country  of 
ruins.  It  would  seem,  that,  to  feel  her  attraction,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  know  her  better ;  and,  after  so  brilliant  £  career, 
nothing  surely  could  be  more  flattering  than  to  count  almost  as 
many  friends  as  one  formerly  had  adorers.  Without  wishing  to 
detract  from  her  merit,  I  cannot  help  saying,  that,  perhaps  if 
she  had  once  been  in  love  herself,  their  number  would  have 
been  considerably  diminished.  A  passion  exclusive  in  its  nature 
wounds  the  vanity  of  aspirants  even  more  than  their  sensibility. 


ROME,  May  16,  1824. 

Paris  will  be  of  no  use  to  a  young  man  who  has  finished  his 
studies,  but  has  not  yet  arrived  at  the  age  when  one  begins  to 
think  of  resuming  them.  Still  it  is  in  this  interval  that  tastes 
and  habits  are  formed ;  and  it  is  important  to  occupy  it  in  such 
a  manner  that  it  may  not  prove  wholly  useless.  Unless  one 
could  travel  like  M.  de  Humboldt,  I  have  always  thought 
travelling  the  most  frivolous  part  of  the  lives  of  serious  people ; 
but  it  is  also  the  most  serious  part  of  the  lives  of  worldly 
people.  Do  what  they  will,  they  always  learn  something  by  it, 
—  if  only,  in  the  case  of  the  Frenchman,  the  substance  of  the 
verse  :  — 

"Plus  je  vis  I'&ranger,  plus  j'aimai  ma  patrie." l 

My  stay  at  Rome  has  augmented  my  fondness  for  my 
nephews,  who  are  truly  charming.  The  two  eldest  are  par- 


1  The  more  I  saw  of  foreigners,  the  better  I  loved  my  country. 


198  LIFE    OP   MADAME    S\VETCHINE. 

ticularly  dear  to  me ;  and,  in  character  and  good  conduct,  they 
are  almost  men, — I  should  say,  estimable  men,  if  the  word 
were  not  incongruous  with  their  cherub  faces. 

We  are  planning  to  leave  in  a  few  days  for  the  north  of 
Italy,  to  avoid  the  extreme  heat.  We  shall  begin  with  Bologna 
and  Venice,  and  finish  with  Milan  and  the  lakes.  From  every 
part  of  Italy,  Rome,  I  am  sure,  will  always  attract  my  longing. 
There  one  lives  less  with  his  brethren  than  with  his  ancestors, 
and  this  mingles  a  filial  element  with  every  impression. 

You  ask  whether  I  was  pleased  with  Holy  Week.  I  admired 
its  pomp,  which  was,  however,  rendered  very  incomplete  by 
the  absence  of  the  Pope.1  But  the  imagination  so  easily 
divines  and  surpasses  all  possible  magnificence,  that  surprise 
added  nothing  to  my  admiration,  unless  in  the  case  of  the 
music,  whose  solemn  and  religious  character  and  astonishing 
execution  are  above  praise.  This  music  makes  one  dream, 
with  Pythagoras,  of  the  music  of  the  spheres,  and  all  the 
marvels  attributed  to  it  in  the  early  ages  of  the  world.  It  is 
truly  the*sublime,  and  the  sublime  in  angels1  language.  Pardon 
expressions  which  appear  hyperbolical,  in  consideration  of  the 
rapture  which  you,  I  will  answer  for  it,  would  have  shared 
with  me.  I  have  not  spoken  so  on  other  occasions,  which  is  at 
least  a  proof  of  my  sincerity.  I  must  acknowledge,  that,  if  I 
were  consulted,  I  should  require  more  calmness  and  order  in 
the  solemnities  of  religion  than  can  co-exist  with  a  noisy  crowd 
rushing  abruptly  from  one  chapel  to  another,  and  subordinating 
all  propriety  to  the  demands  of  its  eager  curiosity.  I  could 
wish,  also,  that  the  services  called  together  only  humble  minds, 
if  not  hearts,  that  are  truly  one  ;  but  I  must  confess,  that  this 
crowd  of  haughty  and  sneering  strangers  made  me  regret, 
more  than  once,  that  any  charm  should  allure  them  to  us,  espe- 
cially at  a  time  when  one  would  so  like  to  forget  contradiction, 
error,  and  pride. 

Rome  is  being  forsaken  day  by  day,  that  is,  by  strangers ; 
for  the  Romans  themselves  prefer  neither  watering-places, 
travelling,  nor  the  country. 


Leo  XII.  had  just  succeeded  to  Pius  Vll. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  199 


CHAPTER   XL 

Excursion  to  Carlsbad.  —  Return  to  Rome.  —  Continuation  of  the  Corre- 
spondence with  the  Marquise  de  Montcalm.  —  Letters  to  Mile,  de 
Virieu,  the  Countess  de  Sainte-Aulaire,  the  Duke  de  Laval,  Montmo- 
renci,  and  Mme.  Re"camier.  —  Extracts  from  her  journal. 

THE  hot  season  was  approaching.  Mme.  Swetchine  was 
suffering  exceedingly  from  liver  complaint,  of  which 
she  had  never  been  entirely  cured ;  and  the  physicians 
advised  her  to  try  the  waters  of  Carlsbad,  in  Bohemia, 
taking  the  north  of  Italy  on  her  way.  Mme.  Swetchine 
obeyed  their  orders,  uncertain  whether,  after  her  season 
at  the  Springs,  she  should  return  to  Paris  or  to  Rome. 
Her  decision  was  in  abeyance  to  the  motives  which  had 
determined  her  departure.  Two  letters  only  furnish  us 
with  some  details  of  her  stay  at  Carlsbad :  — 

TO  THE  MARQUISE  I>E  MONTCALM. 

CARLSBAD,  Aug.  3, 1824. 

The  order  which  forbids  my  writing  during  ray  convales- 
cence is  accompanied  by  such  fearful  threats,  that,  with  the 
exception  of  business  letters,  and  those  which  I  cannot  safely 
defer,  my  correspondence  is  entirely  suspended,  and  I  bargain 
with  myself  for  the  briefest  billet.  But  to  learn  that  you  are 
suffering,  and  that  you  have  remarked  my  silence,  makes  it 
impossible  for  me  to  wait ;  and  I  write  to-day,  as  I  should  have 
hastened  to  your  house,  to  open  my  heart  to  you,  and  to  tell 
you  how  much  it  costs  me  not  to  convert  into  action  those 
sincere  and  tender  sentiments  of  mind  by  which  you  profit  so 
little. 

I  found  a  numerous  company  assembled  here,  offering  pre- 
cious advantages  to  those  who  are  disposed  to  avail  themselves 
of  them ;  but  new  faces  alarm  me  in  proportion  to  my  love  for 
the  old ;  and  my  shyness,  although  in  a  measure  overcome,  is 


200  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

not  yet  sufficiently  so  for  my  life  to  be  other  than  habitually 
secluded. 

You  know  already,  that,  after  having  despaired  of  meeting 
Mme.  Nesselrode  again,  I  have  been  so  happy  as  to  have  her 
here,  and  to  insure  our  mutual  friendship  against  the  sad  effects 
of  protracted  separation.  She  has  often  inquired  for  you,  and 
begged  me  to  remember  her  to  you.  Adieu !  This  letter  is 
only  a  certificate  that  I  am  alive ;  but  after  leaving  Carlsbad, 
or  rather  Saltzburg,  where  I  shall  stop  for  a  few  days,  I  shall 
most  certainly  resume  the  dear  and  delightful  habit  of  writing 
to  you  regularly,  and,  I  may  add,  of  being  independent  of 
your  silence.  My  own  impetus  is  so  strong,  that  I  can  dispense 
with  any  on  your  part.  Whenever  you  are  good  and  just 
enough  to  write  to  me,  address  your  letters  to  Rome.  I  shall 
not  return  thither  much  before  October ;  but  my  sister  will  be 
nearer  me  than  you,  and  will  know  better  how  to  direct. 


TO  MLLE.   DE  VIRIEU.1 

CAKLSBAD,  Aug.  31, 1824. 

M.  de  Ferronnays  is  here,  whom  I  have  never  met  before, 
but  whom  I  like  exceedingly.  Chance  was  favorable  to  both 
of  us.  I  mentioned  you,  I  know  not  on  what  occasion ;  and 
he  exclaimed  that  he  knew  you,  and  spoke  to  me  of  you  with 
a  degree  of  interest,  penetration,  and  tact,  with  which  the 
heart  had  quite  as  much  to  do  as  the  intellect. 

On  her  return  to  Rome,  Mme.  Swetchine  describes 
minutely  to  Mme.  de  Montcalm  the  circumstances  which 
must  prolong  her  residence  in  Italy,  and  then  adds:  — 

HOME,  Nov.  9, 1824. 

It  is  long  since  I  wrote  you,  but  this  time  I  am  not  anxious 
about  your  conclusions.  First,  because  you  do  not  suppose  me 
to  be  very  happy ;  and  secondly,  because  of  the  joy  it  gives 
me  to  be  able  to  fix  my  return  for  the  early  spring,  with  a  rea- 
sonable prospect  of  accomplishing  it.  I  have  been  able  to  set 
aside  other  projects,  and  to  make  every  thing  bend  to  my  con- 
stantly increasing  desire  of  returning  to  France.  You  will 
agree,  that  to  labor  for  this  end  is  better  worth  my  while  than 
writing. 

1  Daughter  of  Count  de  Virieu,  a  distinguished  deputy  from  the  no- 
bility of  Dauphiny  to  the  States-General,  in  1789. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  201 

I  have  seen,  with  sorrow,  that  you  are  suffering  more  than 
ever,  while  no  deep  and  heartfelt  consolation  has  yet  come  to 
your  relief.  You  are  still  seeking  in  this  miserable  life  what  it 
cannot  give  you.  Before  it  can  yield  you  the  nourishment  you 
need,  your  heart  must  become  less  exacting,  or  your  intellect 
less  keen.  All  our  faculties,  when  too  highly  developed,  be- 
come of  necessity  self-involved,  if  they  are  not  absorbed  in  the 
Infinite.  They  must  either  rescue  us  from  ourselves,  or  lay 
waste  all  that  is  within  us. 

I  hope  to  pass  a  part  of  the  winter  with  Mme.  de  Nessel- 
rode,  which  will  be  delightful.  She  is  coming  here  about  the 
middle  of  next  month ;  and  I  count  upon  making  the  trip  to 
Naples  in  her  company. 


TO   THE  COUNTESS  DE  SAINTE-AULAIRE. 

ROME,  Dec.  7, 1824. 

I  have  received  your  letter;  and  it  is  very  sweet  thus  to  be 
assured,  from  time  to  time,  of  your  remembrance.  In  turn,  I 
can  assure  you  of  mine :  but  you  alone  deserve  credit  in  this 
matter ;  for,  outside  of  Paris,  the  absent  are  lost  in  shadow, 
while,  for  those  same  absentees,  Paris  is  the  only  point  of  light 
in  the  whole  picture. 

How  I  regret  that  you  were  not  at  the  head  of  that  caravan 
of  your  compatriots  which  has  recently  arrived !  M.  and 
Mme.  de  Montmorenci,  Mme.  d'Hautefort,  &c.,  —  I  have  not 
yet  seen  them ;  but  we  are  to  meet  at  the  Duke  de  Laval's  to- 
morrow. Mont  Cenis  can  be  crossed  in  all  weathers.  Do 
arm  yourself  with  a  little  courage,  and  come  and  surprise  us. 
With  the  exception  of  the  month  or  six  weeks  which  I  hope  to 
give  to  Naples,  I  shall  be  at  Rome  all  winter,  and  start  for 
Paris  early  in  April. 

We  live  a  life  of  perfect  independence,  far  surpassing,  in  my 
opinion,  the  boasted  liberty  of  Paris,  for  the  very  reason  that 
society  offers  fewer  seductions ;  and  therefore  one  escapes 
more  easily  one's  taste  for  that,  and  for  general  attention. 
Moreover,  if  we  formed  any  attachments  here,  they  must  be 
for  strangers,  since  the  people  of  the  country  extend  us  no 
welcome,  and  we  only  meet  them  at  the  great  parties  which 
constitute  the  whole  of  society  here.  Our  own  circle  is  nu- 
merous, and  varies  very  little.  Among  its  members,  I  must 
not  forget  to  mention  M.  Blank,  a  Neapolitan,  whom  you  saw 
at  Paris,  and  who  can  fully  appreciate  the  charm  of  your 
mind.  He  is  a  very  witty  man.  I'  do  not  always  agree  with 
him ;  but,  beyond  the  circle  of  ideas  which  constitute  collec- 


202  LIFE    OF   MADAME    S\VETCHINE. 

tively  the  life  of  the  intellect,  every  thing  can  be  borne  but 
mediocrity  and  bad  faith.  True  eminence  always  compels  us, 
in  one  way  or  another,  to  examine  and  approve  it.  I  doubt 
whether  you  would  find  great  resources  here,  even  in  individu- 
als. That  every-day  life,  of  which  you  are  so  impatient,  soon 
resumes  its  rights.  It  is  so  easy  to  get  accustomed  to  solemn 
and  grand  effects,  and  one  is  so  sure  of  ending  by  dining  and 
sleeping  at  Rome,  that  there  are  multitudes  who  do  nothing 
else.  I  did  not  know  Lord  Byron,  but  I  have  mourned  him. 
So,  probably,  have  most  people.  Your  remark  struck  me  as 
very  just.  Only  a  severe  virtue  is  worthy  to  be  associated  with 
heroic  successes,  as  sweet  voices  are  needed  to  sing  the  woes 
of  Zion.  Did  not  the  adoption  of  his  daughter  by  the  Greeks 
remind  you  a  little  of  the  daughter  of  the  nation  ?  Only  the 
natural  order  is  reversed,  and  the  parody  comes  first.  The 
abandonment  of  the  Greeks  must  ever  be  an  indelible  stain. 
Never  did  the  prudence  of  the  age  so  deserve  to  be  branded. 
The  governments  of  Europe  recoiled  from  an  enterprise,  — 
hazardous  it  may  be,  but  imperatively  demanded,  —  as  we  re- 
coil from  needful  sacrifices.  Well,  what  is  the  result?  God 
snatches  from  us  what  we  will  not  give.  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised if  war  were  the  result  of  this  shameful  inaction  :  in  fact, 
I  should  be  glad  of  it ;  for  we  must  desire  the  good  of  the 
whole  world.  On  the  other  hand,  I  want  the  Greeks  to  go  on, 
from  one  success  to  another,  independent  of  the  world. 

I  have  been  very  glad  of  the  species  of  truce  spontaneously 
agreed  on  by  all  parties  in  France.  The  acts  of  the  new  reign  ' 
have  been  calculated  at  once  to  surprise  and  to  gratify ;  but  it 
is  not  by  acts  alone,  however  honorable  to  the  authorities,  that 
we  can  explain  so  lively  and  general  an  enthusiasm.  The 
charm  of  novelty  has  its  share  in  the  same.  Were  you  not 
pleased  with  the  article  of  M.  de  Salvandy  on  St.  Denis  ?  I 
thought  it  admirable.  It  was  all  fused  in  his  own  mind  before 
he  wrote  it. 

My  sister  charges  me  with  a  thousand  remembrances  for 
you.  She  is  more  of  a  home  body  than  ever.  Her  children 
are  lovely,  and  I  am  foolishly  fond  of  them.  If  I  am  ever 
pope,  I  fear  I  shall  hardly  escape  the  charge  of  nepotism. 

Adieu  !  Write  and  tell  me  when  you  will  come  ;  and,  if  you 
are  not  coming,  write  to  console  me  for  the  sad  delay. 

At  about  the  same  date,  Mme.  Swetchine  addressed  to 
Mile,  de  Virieu  the  affecting  confession  which  follows :  — 

l  That  of  Charles  X. 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  203 

"  Since  writing  you,  I  have  received  the  sacrament  of  con- 
firmation, which  is  not  valid  as  administered  in  the  Greek 
Church.  I  have  taken  the  name  of  Joan,  for  the  sake  of  St. 
John  the  Evangelist,  for  whom  I  have  always  cherished  a 
peculiar  and  devoted  affection.  I  hesitated  some  time  be- 
tween this  name  and  that  of  Mary ;  but  I  comprehended  the 
friend  better  than  I  can  ever  hope  to  comprehend  the  mother, 
and  the  former  prevailed." 

In  the  midst  of  so  many  varying  emotions,  Mme.  Swet- 
chine  could  not  forget  her  friend  the  Countess  Edling.  A 
great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  life  of  the  latter. 
Germany  had  been  variously  agitated  during  the  years 
which  had  witnessed  the  bursting  of  the  storm  of  revolution 
in  Italy  and  Spain.  Count  Alexander  Stourdza  had  been 
insulted  and  threatened  with  death  in  the  performance  of 
his  duty  as  the  representative  of  Russia ;  and,  from  that 
time,  the  Countess  Edling  conceived  a  strong  desire  to 
withdraw  from  Weimar,  and  return  to  her  own  country. 
She  had  no  desire,  however,  to  encounter  other  storms  and 
fresh  political  complications.  Her  fancy  for  a  life  of 
meditation,  of  which  we  have  already  had  transient  glimpses 
in  the  correspondence  of  Mme.  Swetchine,  developed  and 
ripened.  Count  Edling  was  not  averse  to  it;  and  in  1823 
both  adopted  the  resolution  of  residing  on  their  estates  in 
White  Russia,  while  they  chose  for  their  winter  habitation 
the  flourishing  city  of  Odessa.  The  Emperor  and 
Empress,  who  had  often  heard  Roxandra  Stourdza  in  her 
youth  express  her  ideas  on  charity  and  Christian  civiliza- 
tion, desired  that  she  might  at  least  take  with  her  to  her 
retreat  the  consolation  and  the  power  of  carrying  out 
her  designs.  Ten  thousand  deciatines  of  land  beyond  the 
Dniester  were  gratuitously  ceded  her  by  the  Crown  in 
the  valleys  but  lately  overrun,  though  not  improved,  by 
the  nomad  race  of  the  Boudjac  Tartars.  The  Count  and 


204  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Countess  Edling  cleared  up  this  wild  land,  planted  fir  trees 
and  vines,  and  built  villages  in  a  desert  which,  until  then, 
had  lacked  husbandmen,  cottages,  and  water  alike.  They 
then  erected  for  themselves  a  vast  habitation  called  Mansir ; 
and  in  the  midst  of  labors  over  which  they  maintained  a 
constant  supervision,  and  surrounded  by  happy  beings  who 
nocked  in  increasing  numbers  to  this  remote  spot,  they 
fixed  their  own  residence.  Thither  was  addressed  the 
only  one  of  Mme.  Swetchine's  letters  from  Rome  which 
has  been  preserved :  — 

ROME,  Dec.  1, 1824. 

MY  DEAR  ROXANDRA,  —  I  live,  and  I  love  you.  This  is  what 
I  fancy  you  will  be  glad  to  know,  and  what  I  feel  a  constant 
need  of  telling  you.  If  our  love  had  not  united  us  once  for  all, 
we  could  not  thus  set  custom  aside,  and  doubt  would  attack 
us  with  all  its  disheartening  power ;  but  I  cannot  help  judging 
your  heart  by  my  own,  and  in  the  depths  of  my  being  I  test 
all  your  emotions.  How  would  it  be  with  us  now,  dear  friend, 
if  we  had  been  drawn  together  simply  by  mutual  attraction  and 
conformity  of  tastes  ?  In  a  matter  of  mere  pleasure,  one  is 
interested,  —  one  wants  each  moment  to  bring  its  share  of  profit 
and  delight ;  but  our  souls  have  touched,  and  the  actual  hap- 
piness of  our  connection  would  have  been  less  enduring,  if  the 
tie  itself  had  been  indissoluble.  I  always  wear  your  little  ring 
upon  my  finger.  This  symbol,  fragile  like  all  symbols,  will 
never  leave  me.  Doubtless  it  will  survive  me ;  but  I  do  not 
envy  it,  for  I  am  sure  that  the  sentiment  which  makes  me  value 
it  so  highly  will  survive  the  trinket  in  its  turn. 

Despite  the  small  chances  in  my  favor,  I  still  cherish  the 
hope  of  seeing  you  again,  and  of  sitting  up  with  you.  'Tis  so 
pleasant  a  chimera,  that  it  mingles  with  all  my  comforts,  and 
oftener  still  comes  to  fill  the  void  where  there  are  none.  This 
new  establishment  which  you  are  planning  —  this  thoroughly 
religious  civilization  which  you  propose  to  summon  into  the 
deserts,  where,  but  for  you,  man  would  not  be,  or  would  only 
vegetate  miserably  —  allures  your  imagination,  which  is  haunted 
by  dreams  of  virtue.  I  love  to  see  you  good  and  lofty  like 
yourself,  suiting  your  actions  to  your  character ;  and  yet,  my 
dear  friend,  I  am  impatient  under  the  weight  of  the  necessity 
which  detains  you  far  from  me.  If  you  had  not  exchanged 
your  beautiful,  green,  picturesque  mountains  for  desert  plains, 


LIFE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  205 

I  should  have  seen  you  again  this  year ;  I  might  perhaps  see 
you  next,  and,  in  default  oi'  actual  possibilities,  the  hope  at  least 
would  have  been  left  me.  I  admire  in  you  the  courage  which 
undertakes.  I  have  hardly  that  which  perseveres.  The  day 
seems  to  me  so  far  spent,  and  the  sun  so  surely  to  be  tingeing 
all  iny  remaining  objects  with  his  last  rays,  that  I  feel  as  if  I 
should  scarcely  have  time  to  reach  home. 

You  will  be  surprised  that  the  date  of  my  letter  is  still 
Rome.  My  plan  last  year  was  certainly  to  return  to  Paris. 
There  has  been  nothing  voluntary  in  my  determination,  or  I 
could  not  have  enjoyed  this  seeming  independence  without 
positive  self-condemnation.  It  would  be  too  long  a  story  to 
detail  the  conflicting  motives  which  appealed  to  my  conscience. 
This  summer  1  took  a  long  journey  for  the  benefit  of  my  health. 
I  left  Rome,  which  I  love  as  much  as  one  can  love  any  place 
which  has  no  part  in  one's  future,  to  seek  a  little  strength  in 
the  depths  of  Bohemia.  It  is  folly  to  wish  to  get  cured ;  above 
all  things,  to  shrink  from  suffering :  for  every  one  must  attend 
to  his  own  business,  and  suffering  is  ours.  Besides,  I  have 
never  thought  that  lots  were  so  unequally  distributed  in  life  as 
they  sometimes  appear,  especially  if  we  set  aside  those  ills 
which  are  of  our  own  creating.  The  most  fortunate  are  those 
who  employ  heavenly  forces  to  preserve  their  balance  amid  i 
earthly  ones ;  and  it  is  with  the  deepest  gratitude,  my  friend, 
that  I  observe  in  myself,  as  the  result  of  so  many  vicissitudes, 
the  strongest  and  most  sincere  desire  to  take  thought  for  one 
thing  only,  —  ameliorating  the  condition  of  others. 

This  Greek  struggle,  so  noble,  so  heroic,  which  excites 
such  just  and  sacred  hopes  in  you,  has  my  warmest  wishes  also. 
We  are  so  distracted  in  this  world,  and  so  absorbed  by  selfish 
interests,  that  general  interests,  which  move  the  mind  more 
deeply,  no  longer  find  their  proper  aliment.  How  else  can  we 
explain  the  fact,  that  all  who  judge  for  themselves  have  not 
been  won  to  awarding  a  constant  attention  to  efforts,  the 
purest  and  most  praiseworthy  in  principle  which  have  ever  been 
made  for  a  holy  cause.  The  liberals  of  Europe  generally  repel 
and  vex  me ;  but  the  liberals  of  Greece,  religious  and  political, 
appear  to  me  worthy  of  all  admiration.  Sad  and  dangerous 
dissensions,  perchance  individual  ambitions,  sometimes  mar 
attempts  as  noble  as  this ;  but  where,  in  an  imperfect  world, 
shall  we  look  for  cloudless  and  unshadowed  brightness  ?  I 
have  never  thought  that  any  cause  could  long  sustain  itself  here 
below,  if  one  had  the  misfortune  always  to  see  men  where  one 
ought  to  look  only  for  principles.  The  devotion  of  Lord  Byron 
and  his  premature  death  have  doubtless  touched  you.  It  was 
natural  for  a  great  poet  to  die  where  poesy  herself  is  all  alive ; 


206  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

but,  as  some  one1  said  to  me,  "it  would  seem  as  if  Providence 
found  his  character  unworthy  to  furnish  so  noble  an  example." 
Adieu  !     Tell  me  that  your  love  for  ine  is  unalterable. 

Mme.  Swetchine  had  pleased  herself  with  the  thought 
of  seeing  Mme.  de  Nesselrode  again  that  winter.  The 
latter  was  true  to  her  engagement  with  her  friend ;  and 
the  two  passed  some  weeks  at  Naples,  of  which  a  few 
souvenirs  have  been  preserved. 

TO   THE   MARQUISE  DE   MONTCALM. 

NAPLES,  Jan.  8, 1825. 

I  came  here  a  week  ago,  having  been  almost  dragged  away 
by  Mme.  de  Nesselrode,  but  for  whom  I  should  have  held 
Naples  and  all  its  beauties  very  cheap.  My  mind  is  so  far 
from  free,  that  it  requires  a  great  effort  of  the  will  for  me  to 
derive  any  advantage  from  things,  always  so  far  from  supply- 
ing the  place  of  persons  to  me.  You  would  have  pitied  me,  if 
you  had  seen  my  struggles,  my  anxiety,  my  distress.  Placed 
in  the  centre  of  a  thousand  diverse  interests,  it  is  by  my  ex- 
perience that  I  must  weigh  all  the  conflicting  elements  ;  and  I 
can  but  sympathize,  with  all  the  sensibility  I  possess,  in  sorrows 
so  prolonged  and  so  deep,  and  joys  which  can  be  only  fleeting. 
How  many  things  there  are  in  this  world  which  can  only  be 
judged  by  their  results ;  and  how  many  righteous  and  pure 
intentions  are  foiled  by  a  superior  power !  All  we  can  do  is  to 
act  in  accordance  with  our  light,  and  with  that  unselfishness 
which  is  the  logic  of  the  heart. 

Mme.  Recamier  had  arrived  at  Rome,  accompanied  by 
her  friend  M.  Ballanche,  and  M.  Charles  Lenormant,  who 
was  to  marry  her  niece.  The  French  embassy  feted  her, 
and  the  Duke  de  Laval  hastened  to  bring  her  and  Mme. 
Swetchine  together.  The  latter  soon  modified  her  pre- 
vious judgment,  and  yielded  to  the  fascination  of  Mme. 
Recamier's  rare  and  sterling  qualities.  In  the  early  days 
of  December,  1824,  we  read  in  a  note  of  Mme.  Swetchine's 
to  the  Duke  de  Laval :  — 

1  Mme.  de  Sainte-Aulaire.    See  the  preceding  letter. 


LIFE   OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  207 

"  I  will  not  wait  till  you  come,  to  thank  you  for  the  visit  which 
I  have  received,  and  which  I  had  intended  to  prevent.  I  found 
your  friend  just  what  you  have  always  described  her.  Your 
portraits  are  more  than  like.  They  have  all  the  expression 
and  all  the  grace  of  the  original.  Friendship  is  happy  when  it 
can  enable  others  to  divine  its  own  knowledge. 

"Mme.  de  Nesselrode  is  slightly  indisposed.  I  am  going  to 
pass  the  evening  with  her ;  and  I  wish  you  would  be  so  kind  as 
to  send  me  your  little  sketch  of  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire,1 
whom  she  desires  to  know.  You  shall  make  a  third  with  us. 
It  is  the  very  best  way  of  enjoying  a  tete-a-t6te." 

From  Naples,  Mme.  Swetchine  addressed  to  Mme. 
Recamier  the  following  letter :  — 

TO   MME.    RfeCAMIER. 

NAPLES,  Saturday. 

We  have  been  favored  with  the  finest  possible  weather  on 
our  journey ;  no  disturbances  and  no  delays.  In  short,  I  have 
enjoyed  every  thing  except  being  away.  As  we  got  farther  from 
Rome,  the  sky  grew  brighter  and  the  air  softer ;  and  I  regretted 
more  and  more  that  I  had  prevented  you  from  coming.  Yet  I 
would  do  the  same  again.  I  think  that  a  voluntary  sacrifice 
always  compensates  us  for  troubles  of  which  we  have  a  greater 
dread. 

I  have  found  myself  enslaved  before  I  had  dreamed  of  being 
on  my  guard.  I  have  yielded  to  the  indefinable  thrilling  charm 
whereby  you  enthral  those  even  for  whom  you  do  not  care.  I 
miss  you  as  I  should  if  we  had  spent  much  time  together,  and 
had  many  common  memories.  How  can  one  be  so  impoverished 
by  the  loss  of  what  yesterday  one  did  not  possess  ?  It  would 
be  inexplicable  were  there  not  in  some  moments  a  little  of  eter- 
nity. One  would  say,  that,  when  two  souls  meet,  they  are 

1  Georgiana  Spencer,  wife  of  Lord  Cavendish,  Duke  of  Devonshire, 
was  born  in  1746.  She  was  the  author  of  several  poems.  Delille  made  a 
metrical  translation  of  her  Passage  of  Mont  Gothard,  and  addressed  to 
her  a  letter  of  dedication,  in  which  we  read,  — 

"  Je  crois  voir,  &  cote"  de  1'aigle  de  Pindare, 
La  colombe  d'Anacreon." 

CEuvres  Completes  de  Delille,  vol.  x. 

I  seem  to  see  Pindar's  eagle  beside  Anacreon's  dove. 


208  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

stripped  of  all  the  conditions  of  this  miserable  existence,  and, 
in  their  new  freedom  and  happiness,  already  obey  the  laws  of  a 
better  world.  We  arrived  here  at  nightfall.  A  little  later,  the 
moon  rose  above  this  beautiful  bay.  To-day  I  have  seen  the 
sunrise ;  and  I  leave  the  enchanting  picture  only  to  write  to 
you.  Whatever  fully  satisfies  our  love  of  the  beautiful  awak- 
ens with  unparalleled  force  our  craving  for  happiness,  which  is 
as  enduring  as  our  faith  in  the  same.  One  may  well  ask,  by 
what  mystery  of  ingratitude  it  is  that  admiration  does  not  suf- 
fice us.  And  only  suffering  makes  answer,  that,  to  enjoy  any 
thing,  we  must  have  all.  Perhaps  you  have  not  felt  this  as  I  feel 
it.  Sometimes  the  most  congenial  hearts  respond  differently  to 
the  same  influences.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  —  very 
kind  in  manner  and  in  speech ;  but  I  was  peculiarly  touched  by 
those  glimpses  of  a  confidence  which  as  yet  you  were  not  quite 
ready  to  award  me.  When  you  know  me  better,  it  will  be  only 
an  act  of  justice.  To-day  it  is  a  favor ;  and  I  am  like  a  good 
many  other  people,  —  I  would  rather  receive  than  deserve. 
Already  I  would  give  all  I  have,  and  all  I  have  not,  to  know  that 
you  were  happy.  May  you  be  so  soon,  independently  of  me ! 
But  I  do  most  resolutely  claim  a  share  in  your  sorrows.  This 
letter,  as  you  see,  is  merely  meant  as  a  continuation  of  our  last 
conversation,  which  left  on  my  mind  an  impression  at  once  so 
sweet  and  so  sad.  We  have  too  many  indifferent  speeches, 
even  for  indifferent  people. 

Adieu  !  Remember  me  to  the  Duke  de  Laval,  whom  I  asso- 
ciate so  gratefully  with  my  affection  for  you. 

Italy  produced  on  Mme.  Swetchine  its  infallible  effect 
on  high-toned  minds.  Her  habits  of  industry  were  not 
broken  up,  but  stimulated,  by  the  variety  of  the  scenes  she 
witnessed ;  and  besides  the  hastily  written  pages  of  her 
correspondence,  where  her  anxieties  for  others  occupied  as 
large  a  space  as  her  own  impressions,  there  is  a  volume 
specially  consecrated  to  the  galleries  and  to  topographical 
and  archaeological  studies.  Many  pages  in  this  large  vol- 
ume are  devoted  to  an  exact  analysis  of  the  course  of  study 
which  she  industriously  pursued  at  Rome  with  the  cele- 
brated Professor  Visconti.  But,  from  time  to  time,  the 
pupil  speaks  by  the  side  of  the  master ;  and  it  is  from  this 
portion  that  we  borrow  a  few  extracts. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINK.  209 

"  I  pass  over  in  silence,"  she  says  in  one  of  the  earlier  pages, 
"  the  wealth  whose  acquisition  implies  only  time  and  money; 
and  come  to  the  pictures,  the  memory  of  which  never  forsakes 
those  who  have  studied  them  con  amore.  Every  picture  is  a 
new  idea.  The  impression  which  it  makes  remains  with  us  as 
a  precious  souvenir,  mingling  with  our  deepest  emotions,  and 
recalling  them  all." 

TURIN.  —  "In  the  palace  of  the  King  of  Sardinia,  which  is 
more  loaded  with  gilding  than  any  other  I  have  seen,  I  was, 
as  usual,  not  much  impressed  by  any  thing  but  the  pictures. 
The  following  struck  me  most :  — 

"Two  Vandykes, — the  one  representing  the  children  of 
Charles  I.,  the  other  Cromwell  and  his  wife, — beautiful  pic- 
tures ;  but  they  make  one  regret  that  the  same  pencil  should 
have  drawn  Charles  I.  and  Cromwell. 

"  Two  pictures  by  Guercino,  which  are  above  praise.  The 
prodigal  son  on  his  knees  before  his  father,  imploring  his  mercy. 
Guercino  has  so  placed  the  prodigal,  that  his  face  is  not  seen  ; 
perhaps  with  the  same  thought  as  the  artist  who  veiled  the  head 
of  Agamemnon. 

"  The  other  is  the  most  admirable  thine  I  ever  saw  for  beauty 
of  attitude,  grouping,  and  marvellous  simplicity  of  drapery. 
It  represents  Saint  Frances  standing  and  holding  an  open  book, 
and  an  angel  by  her  side  in  nearer  perspective." 

GENOA.  —  "Architecture  should  owe  nothing  to  color,  any 
more  than  sculpture.  Beauty  of  coloring,  truth  and  nobility  of 
expression,  for  painting ;  proportion,  grace,  harmony,  for  the 
others.  These  are  the  perfections  at  which  the  arts  must  respec- 
tively aim.  Whatever  destroys  unity  of  impression  may  improve 
the  details,  but  adds  nothing  to  the  general  effect.  Each  art  has 
its  limits ;  and  there  are  few  usurpations  in  the  world  punished 
more  severely  than  transgressions  of  these. 

"  Instead  of  taking  the  street  of  the  Faubourg  Saint  Pierre 
d'Arena,  we  followed  the  shore ;  and  I  can  never  find  words 
for  the  emotion  which  seized  me,  when  I  beheld,  on  my  left,  the 
sea  in  all  the  wondrous  beauty  of  its  vast  expanse.  The  sun 
was  already  low ;  and  his  rays  struck  obliquely  upon  the  trans- 
parent waters,  which  sparkled  with  a  thousand  fires.  The 
water  between  the  two  piers  was  green  as  chrysolite,  but 
towards  the  horizon  it  was  tinged  with  the  purest  blue.  A  li<;ht 
breeze  agitated  the  surface  of  the  waves,  ever  varying  in  tlu-ir 
motion,  and  yet  always  the  same.  After  passing  the  gate  of  the 
Lantern,  you  take  in  at  one  view  Genoa  the  Proud;  and  if  you 
keep  to  the  centre,  which  serves  as  a  base  to  the  amphitheatre 

14 


210  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

formed  by  her  edifices,  astonishment  mingles  with  admiration  at 
every  step.  Here  all  dreams  and  all  magic  are  surpassed. 
Here  the  word  which  has  pronounced  the  majesty  of  nature 
subordinate  to  man  receives  its  full  accomplishment,  while  yet 
he  is  unceasingly  recalled  by  the  sight  of  the  infinite  to  a  sense 
of  his  dependence.  How  great  must  he  be  in  his  own  eyes, 
when  he  casts  them  over  the  vast  basin  in  which,  so  to  speak, 
he  holds  the  sea  captive ;  upon  the  ships  which  are  the  monu- 
ments of  his  progressive  science  and  his  indomitable  courage  ; 
and  on  the  palaces  which  lay  so  long  hidden  in  the  bosom  of 
the  earth !  And,  on  the  other  hand,  before  the  infinitude  of  the 
sea  and  of  the  sky,  and  before  the  depths  of  his  own  heart, 
how  feeble  and  powerless  must  he  feel  himself  to  be ! 

"  I  have  to-day  passed  through  the  celebrated  streets,  Nuova 
Nuovissima  and  Balbi,  which  are  doubtless  destined  to  mark  the 
extreme  limit  that  luxury  can  attain.  I  was  sorry  that  so  much 
magnificence  should  not  have  been  reserved  for  public  buildings. 
To  be  sure,  almost  all  the  wealth  in  the  world  was  concentrated 
among  the  individuals  who  built  these  beautiful  palaces ;  and 
these  same  individuals  sustained  sieges,  levied  armies,  &c. 
Nevertheless,  such  pomp,  and  such  an  employment  of  treasure, 
are  almost  inconceivable ;  albeit,  we  cannot  be  sure  that  we 
should  have  made  a  better  use  of  it.  And  we,  with  our  poor 
and  narrow  ideas,  we  who  are  no  longer  individuals  but  masses, 
cannot  grasp  a  notion  which  transcends  our  contracted  customs. 
The  Roman  sewers  strike  us  as  forcibly,  and  in  much  the  same 
way,  as  the  palaces  of  the  Genoese  nobles.  Sacrificing  every 
thing  to  the  selfish  interest  of  the  moment  ourselves,  we  ask 
how  it  was  possible  to  consume  fifty  years  in  building  a  palace, 
or  to  continue  from  one  generation  to  another  the  erection  of 
a  public  edifice.  Alas  !  if  our  plans  are  more  reasonable  and 
prudent,  it  is  not  because  we  are  more  self-forgetful,  but  be- 
cause we  are  afraid  that  we  shall  not  soon  enough  reap  their 
fruits. 

"  Genoa  makes  one  idle.  It  is  so  delightful  to  sit  at  the  win- 
dow, that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  go  far  in  search  of  objects  of 
interest.  It  is  enough  for  the  traveller  to  revel  in  the  vast  sea- 
view,  in  the  magnificent  port  which  is,  as  it  were,  its  vestibule, 
in  the  forest  of  masts  swaying  with  the  waves  beneath  his  eye ; 
and  he  cannot  tear  himself  away.  The  life  and  movement 
which  disport  and  display  themselves  under  a  thousand  diverse 
forms,  the  light  boats  gliding  between  the  motionless  ships,  the 
confused  voices  mingling  with  the  dull  sound  of  the  waves,  the 
cries  of  the  sailors  softened  in  the  distance,  their  picturesque 
costumes,  their  expressive  faces,  the  blue  sea,  the  clear  sky, 
the  vivid  light,  the  breeze  so  fresh  and  yet  so  soft,  the  arch 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  211 

•which  encloses  the  picture  without  its  suffering  the  loss  of  a 
single  detail,  —  and  all  this  at  a  glance !  Here,  surely,  to 
breathe  is  to  enjoy ;  to  look  is  to  be  happy.  Doubtless  there 
are  many  seaports  which  afford  a  varied  and  extensive  view ; 
but,  setting  aside  the  magnificence  which  one  must  seek  in  vain 
elsewhere,  the  different  levels  on  which  the  city  of  Genoa  is 
built  seem  like  terraces  prepared  for  the  express  purpose  of 
enabling  her  inhabitants  to  enjoy  the  perpetual  vavfia%ia  dis- 
played before  them. 

' '  When  a  sovereign  builds  a  city  out  of  his  own  good  pleasure 
and  to  serve  as  a  suburb  to  his  palace,  it  is  speedily  abandoned, 
like  Potsdam  or  Versailles.  When,  on  the  contrary,  commerce, 
facility  of  communication,  beauty  of  aspect,  and  fertility  of  soil, 
determine  the  site,  every  thing  conspires  to  inaugurate  a  free 
and  spontaneous  movement,  which  is  perpetuated  and  protected 
in  the  common  interest.  Revolutions,  failing  fortunes,  change 
of  masters,  all  the  vicissitudes,  in  short,  which  states  undergo, 
leave  things  very  much  as  they  were  before.  Genoa  is  no 
longer  Genoa  the  Proud ;  but  not  only  are  her  population,  her 
commerce,  and  her  industry,  still  prosperous,  but  her  beautiful 
palaces  and  marvellous  suburbs  still  echo  to  the  old  names, 
whose  representatives,  in  spite  of  the  excessive  reduction  of  their 
patrimony,  have  submitted  to  every  sacrifice  rather  than  not 
preserve  the  monuments  of  the  wealth  and  luxury  of  their 
ancestors." 

From  admiration  of  the  palaces  and  the  panorama  at 
Genoa,  Mme.  Swetchine  passes  to  her  visit  to  the  hospital, 
which  she  examined  with  especial  regard  to  the  care  be- 
stowed on  the  poor,  and  is  gratified  at  the  decency  and 
gravity  which  always  attend  the  pauper's  burial. 

"  The  tenderest  cares  of  charity,"  she  says,  "  appear  to  me 
incomplete,  if  they  do  not  follow  man  to  his  last  asylum.  The 
contempt  shown  the  remains  of  the  poor  man  in  the  French 
hospitals  has  oftened  saddened  me.  Since  they  grant  him  a 
little  earth,  why  should  they  refuse  him  prayers  and  a  parting 
benediction  ?  Let  us  not  forget  that  He  whom  we  adore  has 
placed  the  burial  of  Ihe  dead  among  works  of  piety ;  and  to 
bury  means  here,  not  to  hide  from  the  sight,  but  to  confide 
to  the  earth  with  religious  reverence,  the  seed  reserved  for 
a  glorious  resurrection ;  while  we  hasten,  by  our  prayers,  that 
deliverance  which  one  day  —  and  it  may  be  soon  —  will  bo 
invoked  for  ourselves. 


212  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"English  comfort  is  the  exact  antipodes  of  luxury,  as  the 
Italians  conceive  it.  Their  palaces  are  absorbed  in  vestibules, 
staircases,  and  galleries.  Their  churches  are  vaster  than  their 
promenades  and  public  squares.  But  the  heir  of  an  illustrious 
name,  in  the  palace  of  his  ancestors,  is  not  much  better  lodged 
than  the  advocate  whom  he  pays,  or  the  artisan  whom  he  em- 
ploys. The  universal  privation  of  all  the  comforts,  elegances, 
and  refinements  of  life,  puts  widely  differing  ranks  on  the  same 
level ;  and,  under  this  aspect,  there  is  perhaps  less  difference 
between  the  rich  and  poor  in  Italy  than  elsewhere.  All  may 
enjoy  in  common  the  beautiful  horizon,  the  clear,  soft  sky, 
where  clouds  are  only  an  accident,  and  these  rich  facades  and 
churches,  —  faithful  types  of  the  heaven  which  all  may  inherit." 

FLORENCE.  —  "  Near  the  Duomo  is  the  little  chapel  of  the 
Brethren  of  Mercy.  This  society  was  formed  in  1244,  at  a 
time  when  Florence  was  often  exposed  to  the  twofold  scourge 
of  pestilence  and  civil  war.  A  church-bell  summons  the  breth- 
ren who  dwell  in  the  city.  The  moment  the  sound  is  heard, 
they  leave  every  occupation,  and  repair  to  this  point  of  ren- 
dezvous. Here  they  are  instructed  in  their  duty  ;  and  in  case 
any  one  is  wounded  in  the  streets,  or  a  workman  has  a  fall,  or 
any  person  needs  to  be  carried  to  the  hospital,  the  litters  are 
always  ready.  Each  brother  puts  on  the  black  robe  of  the 
penitent,  covers  his  face,  and  goes  to  the  performance  of  his 
task.  Almost  every  day  I  have  occasion  to  witness  this  pious 
spectacle,  when  I  go  and  sit  on  a  bench  which  runs  along  a 
wall  parallel  to  the  cathedral.  The  Brethren  of  Mercy  are,  for 
the  most  part,  young  men  from  good  families  in  Florence. 
I  learned  yesterday,  that  Dante  used  to  come  and  sit  on  the 
bench  I  am  so  fond  of,  to  enjoy  the  cooling  breeze." 

RAPHAEL.  —  "The  gallery  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany 
contains  a  good  many  Raphaels ;  and  here  one  may  study  the 
great  master  in  his  widest  range  of  manner  and  of  subject.  An 
immense  value  attaches  to  master-pieces  considered  separately, 
but  variety  adds  to  the  charm  of  a  collection  ;  and,  though  genius 
may  be  more  surprising  in  the  heights  it  attains  than  in  the 
extent  it  embraces,  it  is  difficult  not  to  be  confounded,  when  we 
see  the  same  man  trying  his  hand  at  all  subjects  and  all  styles, 
and  creating  models  in  all. 

"  Can  there  be  a  more  beautiful  portrait  than  that  of  the 
Fornarina  ?  But  it  is  only  a  portrait ;  and  Raphael  in  the  per- 
fection of  his  imitative,  but  not  of  his  creative,  power.  He 
copied  with  rigorous  accuracy  the  object  before  his  eyes, 
without  even  idealizing  it ;  so  entirely  did  the  nature  of  the 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  213 

sentiment  which  animated  him  hold  him  enchained  within 
the  sphere  of  a  purely  human  loveliness.  The  Fornarina, 
beautiful  as  she  is,  does  not  cross  the  threshold  of  sense.  She 
is  a  woman. 

"  It  has  been  remarked,  that  there  is  something  of  the 
Fornarina  in  the  head  of  the  Madonna  della  Seggiola ;  but, 
though  they  show  equal  ability,  what  an  infinite  distance  there 
is  between  the  two  pictures  !  They  are  a  world  apart.  Thus, 
painting,  like  philosophy,  proceeds  from  the  known  to  the  un- 
known. From  the  culminating  point  of  terrestrial  beauty,  it 
rises  through  infinite  spaces  to  divine  beauty.  The  two  kinds 
of  beauty  here  represent  the  two  orders  of  love.  There  is  a 
grace  in  this  Madonna  della  Seggiola, — a  delicacy  of  feature, 
a  divinity  of  expression,  and  a  harmony  of  coloring,  which  will 
for  ever  defy  the  most  skilful  copyists.  There  is  nothing  else 
approaching  the  sweetness  of  the  head  of  the  Virgin,  the 
majesty  of  the  infant  Jesus,  and  the  unction  and  ardent  devo- 
tion of  St.  John.  Every  thing  about  these  two  children  is 
prophetic.  The  one  revolves  in  his  thought  the  destinies  of  the 
world  :  the  other  is  already  consecrating  his  to  its  service. 

"A  little  further  on,  this  same  St.  John  has  become  only 
the  child  of  the  desert  and  preacher  of  repentance.  We  see 
him  standing  in  the  midst  of* wild,  natural  scenery.  His  young 
and  graceful  limbs  are  hardened  to  fatigue  ;  his  coloring  is  full 
of  vigor.  The  inclement  weather  he  has  braved  has  banished 
the  delicate  tints  of  youth  from  his  cheek ;  his  mouth  is  opened 
to  preach  salvation  to  the  world,  and  the  emotion  depicted  on 
his  brow  is  sadness,  —  that  he  should  too  oiten  speak  in  vain. 
He  might  be  of  any  or  all  ages,  by  his  aspect ;  his  expression 
is  at  once  nai've  and  serious ;  he  is  both  child  and  man, — a  man 
in  devotedness,  a  child  in  years.  We  feel  that  all  human  wis- 
dom is  confounded  by  the  thoughts  that  are  written  on  his 
brow.  In  one  hand  lie  holds  a  roll,  which  perhaps  contains 
the  good  tidings ;  in  the  other,  he  lifts  a  cross,  which  is  as  yet 
but  a  broken  reed,  —  a  luminous  reed,  relieved  against  a  dark 
background. 

"Portraits  of  Leo  X.,  Julius  II.,  Cardinal  Bibienna,  and 
Cardinal  Ingherami,  all  from  the  pencil  of  Raphael,  may  be 
found  in  the  Pitti  Palace.  Imitation  can  go  no  farther.  The 
figures  stand  out,  and  seem  to  be  alive. 

"  But  there  is  something  very  unlike  nature  in  a  small  picture 
near  by,  —  the  amazing  Vision  of  Ezekiel,  —  one  of  the  finest 
poems  that  the  genius  of  painting  ever  conceived.  Truly,  it  is 
a  vision.  Torrents  of  light  dazzle  the  spectator.  He  feels  as 
if  he  were  seized  by  the  arms  of  fire  that  upbear  the  prophet. 
It  is  not  merely  the  coloring  which  astonishes  you.  There  is, 


214  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

in  the  drawing  of  this  little  picture,  an  energy,  a  boldness,  and 
a  richness  which  are  incomparable.  It  is  indeed  Jehovah,  the 
true  God  of  the  Old  Testament,  who  is  revealed  to  Raphael,  — 
more  poet  than  painter  here.  It  is  a  strophe  repeated  from 
the  divine  songs.  Elsewhere  Raphael  has  done  well,  but  he 
never  soared  higher." 

ANDREA  DEL  SARTO. —  "The  chef  cTceuvre  of  Andrea  del 
Sarto  is  the  picture  called  the  '  Dispute  of  the  Four  Doctors.1 
The  beauty  of  the  several  figures,  the  purity  of  design,  and  the 
effect  of  brilliant  coloring,  carry  our  admiration  to  the  pitch 
of  enchantment.  Andrea  del  Sarto  is  superior  to  himself. 
His  manner  rises  till  it  is  lost  in  the  heights  where  individuality 
ceases.  It  is  not  a  universal  rule,  that  we  must  cease  to  be 
ourselves,  if  we  would  become  greater  than  ourselves.  Are 
not  the  depths  of  art  sounded  on  the  same  conditions  as  the 
depths  of  morality  ?  Are  not  the  same  devotion,  the  same 
renunciation  of  vanity  and  frivolous  tastes,  and  the  same  self- 
concentration,  demanded  of  the  artist  ?  Must  he  not  also  come 
out  of  himself,  and  live  in  his  worship  and  in  his  love  ?  Who 
has  not  felt,  in  approaching  the  sanctuary  of  the  arts,  a  kind  of 
reverence  and  religious  calm,  the  purity  of  whose  principle  is 
none  the  less  manifest  because  the  objects  offered  to  the  con- 
templation tend  to  lower  or  profane  it?  It  is  like  strength 
which  has  been  consecrated  to  virtue,  but  of  which  passion  has 
obtained  the  mastery.  Is  not  beauty  in  one  sense  eternal,  like 
truth  ?  and,  if  so,  how  close  is  the  alliance  between  religion  and 
art !  And  those  proud  Reformers,  whose  incomplete  law  pro- 
claimed their  divorce,  — how  poor  was  their  inspiration  ! 

"  Observe,  when  you  study  the  essence  of  art,  whether  the 
faculties  through  which  it  acts  upon  you  be  not  the  very  ones 
which  religion  seizes  and  sways  most  powerfully ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  see  if  it  be  not  on  the  religious  masterpieces  that 
art  has  founded  almost  all  its  theories.  What  does  not  painting 
owe  to  religion  and  to  Christianity?  What  would  they  be 
without  her?  She  might  have  numbered  Davids,  Teniers, 
Wouvermans,  possibly  a  Titian ;  but  would  she  have  had 
a  Raphael,  a  Michael  Angelo,  a  Domenichino,  a  Guido,  or  a 
Guercino  ?  Deprive  artists  of  religious  subjects,  and  what  is 
left  them  ?  Cold  history,  colder  allegory,  battles,  nature  with- 
out life,  figures  without  expression,  or  the  melancholy  resource 
of  those  violent  passions  so  incompatible  with  human  beauty 
and  dignity!" 

ROME.  —  "Whether  the  doubts  cherished  by  many  minds, 
about  the  strictness  of  Italian  monasteries,  be  well  founded  or 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  215 

not,  the  religious  Louses  for  women  have  completely  escaped 
these  unfavorable  prejudices.  Not  even  calumny  has  been 
able  to  excite  against  them  the  suspicion  of  grave  offence. 
I  have  always  been  struck  by  the  urbanity,  affability,  and  un- 
obtrusive kindness  of  the  Italian  monks ;  and  I  found  these 
qualities,  in  a  yet  higher  degree,  in  the  female  convents.  The 
benevolence  of  the  nuns  is  so  affectionate,  that  it  wins  the 
heart ;  and  so  sincere,  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  detect  the 
slightest  trace  of  constraint  or  effort  about  it.  The  most  prac- 
tised and  watchful  eye  cannot  discover  a  single  movement  which 
is  not  dictated  by  that  charity  whose  secret  it  is  to  be  universal, 
without  seeming  to  be  mechanical. 

"Their  horizon  is  limited,  as  regards  human  science;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  their  few  ideas  tread  over  and  over  again 
the  way  marked  out  for  love  by  divine  revelation ;  and,  with 
piety  for  their  teacher,  they  have  nothing  to  regret.  They 
ascend  and  descend  and  re-ascend,  without  ceasing,  the  steps  of 
that  miraculous  ladder  which  enchanted  the  prophet's  vision. 
They  sit  at  the  Samaritan's  well,  climb  the  heights  of  Calvary, 
repose  upon  Tabor,  bathe  like  Mary  Magdalene  the  Saviour's 
feet  with  tears  and  perfumes,  or  adore  his  cross.  They  have 
no  cares  for  the  earthly  morrow,  no  fears  for  the  terrible  mor- 
row of  eternity.  The  same  hours  bring  the  same  labors,  and 
are  associated  with  the  same  thoughts.  They  know  that  they 
have  chosen  the  good  part,  and  that  they  possess  the  pearl 
of  great  price.  No  doubt  or  anxiety  disturbs  them.  The 
type  of  their  faith  is  as  simple  as  the  type  of  the  virtues  they 
practise,  — '  humble  plants,'  as  saith  St.  Francis  de  Sales, 
•  who  have  grown  up  in  the  shadow  of  the  cross.' 

"And  the  future  !  that  cannot  mar  their  joy  and  their  settled 
peace  ;  for  they  have  no  past,  and,  consequently,  no  memories 
nor  objects  of  comparison.  The  light  of  the  world  has  become 
a  feeble  twilight  before  it  reaches  them ;  and  any  divergence 
from  their  ideas  is  regarded  as  a  misfortune  and  a  danger. 
How  hard  it  is  for  them  to  admit  gradations  in  religion  !  In- 
complete truth  is  as  much  falsehood  for  them  as  the  grossest 
error ;  and  they  can  hardly  appreciate  any  thing  beyond  the 
alternative  of  being  in  the  world  or  out  of  it.  Of  course,  this 
rigidity  and  these  set  colors  are  unfavorable  to  the  breadth  and 
flexibility  of  the  intellect ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  is  not  virtue 
thus  preserved  in  all  its  integrity,  and  is  there  not  always  a 
little  danger  in  understanding  perfectly  what  we  are  to  combat  ? 
The  Italian  woman,  raised  and  ripened  in  the  shade  of  the 
cloister,  may  have  a  small  share  in  the  noble  freedom  of  hu- 
manity ;  but  of  that  share  she  is  secure,  and  her  place  is 
midway  between  militant  virtue  and  the  inviolable  bliss  of  the 
angels. 


216  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"  One  of  the  proofs  of  the  truth  of  Catholicism  is  its 
response  to  the  heart's  exclusiveness.  Other  communions  think 
to  simplify  religion,  and  render  it  more  accessible  and  more 
attractive,  by  extending  to  all  alike  the  promises  of  its  divine 
Author ;  but  this  is  a  strange  misconception  of  our  real  needs. 
The  more  positive,  exclusive,  austere,  and  exacting  a  rule  is, 
the  more  attraction  it  has  for  us,  —  by  virtue  of  that  vague 
instinct  which  makes  us  feel  that  our  mobility  needs  to  be 
arrested,  our  weakness  strengthened,  our  thoughts  recalled 
and  set  in  order.  No  one  will  be  passionately  attached  to  any 
religion,  who  believes  that  others  are  just  as  good ;  and  a  jealous 
God  knew  this  well.  When  a  thing  has  ceased  to  be,  1  will 
not  say  the  best,  but  the  only  perfect,  good,  what  call  is  there 
for  choice  or  preference  ?  Why  should  we  concentrate,  rather 
than  divide,  our  homage  and  our  love?  The  esprit  du  corps 
has  always  seized  upon  this  concentrative  force  to  accomplish 
great  things.  It  has  always  tightened  its  bonds  within,  when 
it  would  increase  the  power  of  its  action  without.  Language 
itself  bears  witness  to  the  fact.  Thus,  inside  the  universal 
and  all-embracing  religion,  there  is,  in  the  phrase  of  the  differ- 
ent monastic  orders,  the  religion  of  St.  Dominic  or  St. 
Francis  or  St.  Theresa,  —  in  short,  the  religion  which,  in  the 
mouth  of  the  religieux,  often  means  only  the  rule  of  his  order, 
which  constitutes,  in  his  individual  eyes,  the  abridged  type  of 
truth  and  perfection  here  below." 

"  THE  REGINA  CCELI,  A  CARMELITE  CONVENT  IN  THE  LUN- 
OARA.  —  This  is  the  first  convent  I  have  seen  in  Rome  ;  and  I 
was  very  glad  to  begin  with  the  Carmelites,  as  a  piece  of  just 
and  spontaneous  homage  to  their  founder,  St.  Theresa.  One 
is  so  struck  at  Rome  by  the  vanity  of  all  human  greatness,  that 
one  is  better  prepared  than  elsewhere  for  the  sacrifices  of 
Christian  sell-devotion.  One  becomes  familiar  with  what  are 
called  extraordinary  courses,  which  are  yet,  to  the  eyes  of 
faith,  such  simple  and  necessary  courses.  The  saints,  who 
elsewhere  are  little  more  than  types,  —  fantastic  beings  whose 
idealized  virtues  are  merged  in  inimitable  and  unapproachable 
perfection,  —  become  at  Rome,  what  they  really  are  and  always 
have  been,  the  true  ancestors  of  the  faithful,  —  their  predeces- 
sors, beings  like  themselves,  their  guardians  and  models  only. 
When  you  issue  from  the  catacombs,  you  have  a  new  apprecia- 
tion of  that  tyrannous  necessity  which  induced  rare  souls  to 
conceal  their  devotion  in  life,  as  the  martyrs  did  theirs  in  death ; 
and  you  go  from  one  sacrifice  to  another,  and  acknowledge  that 
he  who  burns  his  holocaust  slowly  is  not  the  less  meritorious. 

Before  I  visited  this  Convent  of  the  Lungara,  my  mind  had 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  217 

dwelt  only  on  the  sacred  authoritativeness  of  its  rule,  and  the 
strictness  which  extends  to  the  most  minute  details,  and  seems 
calculated  everywhere  to  substitute  grace  for  nature.  I  be- 
lieved that  I  should  find  its  inhabitants  happy ;  for  where  is 
the  heart  that  God  has  touched,  which  does  not  own  a  pious 
felicity,  even  in  the  midst  of  Buffering P  But  I  imagined  them 
saddened,  as  one  is,  by  the  solemn  thoughts  and  deep  emotions 
which  subdue  the  poor  human  heart.  What,  then,  was  my 
surprise,  when  I  found  myself  surrounded  by  bright  faces, 
indelibly  stamped  with  that  assurance  which  constitutes  the  joy 
of  virtue !  The  first  compliments  were  hardly  passed  and 
returned  before  ease  and  cordiality  had  replaced  the  slight 
embarrassment  which  always  attends  the  meeting  of  strangers ; 
and  soon  a  frank,  childlike,  playful  pleasure  was  expressed  by 
the  holy  sisters,  and  communicated  itself  to  us,  who,  alas ! 
bore  in  their  midst  souls  less  pure,  and  hearts  less  content,  than 
their  own.  We  remained  together  about  three  hours ;  and  I 
brought  away  from  Regina  Coeli  the  conviction,  that,  next  after 
the  merit  of  desiring  the  only  thing  that  cannot  be  bought  too 
dearly,  the  best  thing  is  to  know  exactly  what  we  do  desire. 

"  The  aspect  of  these  religious  retreats  leads  one  to  draw  a 
singular  comparison  between  their  material  arrangements  and 
the  ideas  of  the  ancients.  Strange  as  it  may  seem  to  be  re- 
minded of  the  old  Itomans  by  these  poor  nuns,  it  is  certain 
that  their  habitations  are  arranged  upon  the  plan  of  antique 
institutions.  Thus,  with  the  ancients,  the  individual  was  com- 
pletely absorbed  and  sacrificed  to  society.  All  which  was 
calculated  for  private  use  was  small,  contracted,  poor,  and 
shabby ;  while  luxury  and  magnificence  were  displayed  in  all 
public  monuments.  So  the  house  of  the  wealthiest  citizen 
was  entirely  out  of  proportion  with  the  surrounding  edifices ; 
and,  even  in  this  contracted  dwelling,  he  occupied  only  a  dark, 
close,  crowded  nook,  that  more  space  might  be  afforded  for 
the  atrium  and  triclinium.  The  social  instinct  with  them  was 
paramount  to  the  desire  for  personal  well-being.  All  was 
done  for  all,  and  nothing  for  one  only.  The  temple  of  the 
gods,  the  basilica,  the  portico,  the  triumphal  arch,  flattered 
the  love  of  national  glory ;  and  they  cared  for  nothing  else. 
There  was  something  grand  in  all  this,  which  Christianity  came 
to  reclaim  and  consecrate,  along  with  whatever  else  of  truth 
and  virtue  she  found  upon  the  earth,  and  to  reproduce  it 
upon  a  loftier  and  more  perfect  scale.  Thus,  in  the  life  of 
the  cloister,  which  is  the  flower  of  perfect  Christianity,  all  the 
straits  of  evangelical  poverty  are  for  the  nun,  and  all  the 
luxury  for  the  community :  for  the  rcligieuse,  the  coarse  gar- 
ment, the  meagre  fare,  the  hard  bed,  a  cell  hardly  larger  than 


218  LIFK    OP   MADAME   SKETCHING. 

the  spot  her  tomb  will  occupy ;  for  the  community,  vast  and 
airy  spaces,  refectories,  cloisters,  gardens,  infirmaries,  and, 
above  all,  the  splendors  of  the  Lord's  temple.  .  .  . 

"But  what  surpasses  all  the  marvels  bequeathed  us  by  the 
past,  and  all  which  the  imagination  can  restore,  is  the  incom- 
parable view  from  the  terrace  of  the  Villa  Spada.  The  rich- 
ness of  its  details  makes  the  view  an  extensive  one,  as  the 
memorable  events  it  recalls  put  ages  in  the  place  of  days.  On 
the  left,  you  distinguish  the  portico  of  the  Convent  of  St.  John 
and  St.  Paul ;  the  garden  of  the  monks  who  bear  the  name  and 
the  signs  of  the  Passion ;  the  Villa  Mattel,  St.  Sylvester, 
and  the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  which  bound  the  view  on  this  side  ; 
St.  Balbina,  with  its  high  tower ;  the  Claudian  Aqueduct ;  St. 
Sabas,  with  its  numerous  arcades.  In  front,  you  have  the  arch 
of  the  imperial  theatre,  the  Circus  Maximus,  and,  beyond,  the 
Aventine  and  its  edifices.  At  the  right,  the  Arch  of  Janus, 
the  Temple  of  Vesta,  the  Tiber,  and  the  Janiculum ;  the  little 
pine-grove  between  the  Villas  Lanti  and  Corsini ;  the  majestic 
facade  of  the  Aqua  Paolina ;  and,  finally,  the  dome  of  St. 
Peter's,  which  towers  above  all  these  glorious  realizations  of 
human  thought,  like  a  great  king  ruling  over  a  great  people." 

"SEA  VIEW,  BY  VERNET.  DAYBREAK.  —  Waves  of  vapor 
inundate,  and  at  the  same  time  illumine,  this  picture.  The  sky, 
the  air,  the  water,  —  all  have  that  magical  transparency  which 
those  who  have  not  been  in  Italy  cannot  allow  even  to  nature." 

"THE  DEATH  OF  GERMANICUS,  BY  Poussur. —  The  coloring 
of  this  picture  is  not  flattering :  the  flesh-tints,  for  the  most 
part,  are  carried  up  to  black ;  but  the  composition  is  so  fine, 
the  arrangement  so  simple,  and  at  the  same  time  so  imposing, 
that  these  merits  suffice  to  award  to  this  painting  a  prominent 
place  among  pictures  of  the  second  class.  It  is  one  of  those 
whose  principal  beauties  are  least  spoiled  by  engraving." 

"  A  VIEW  OF  CASTLE  GANDOLFO,  BY  CLAUDE  LORRAINE. — 
This  little  picture  is  enchanting.  The  lake,  the  sky  reflected 
in  it,  the  trees  which  shadow  it,  the  sweet  mist  in  the  air,  the 
vibration  of  the  light,  — in  short,  it  is  Claude  and  nature." 

"TnE  CEXCI. —  A  lovely  head,  by  Guido.  This  unhappy 
girl  has  only  the  excess  of  her  wretchedness  to  offset  against 
her  crime.  There  is  nothing  consuming,  nothing  active  even, 
in  the  grief  which  her  features  express.  Her  profound  sadness 
seems  to  say,  that  she  cares  as  little  for  the  eve  as  for  the  mor- 
row, and  that  destiny's  only  favor  to  her  had  been  the  scaffold 
which  is  now  preparing.  The  Ceiici  is  an  enchantress  of 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  219 

beauty,  youth,  and  melancholy.     Those  sweet  eyes  have  wept 
so  much  !     That  brow  must  have  flushed  so  deeply  ! " 

"  A  MAGDALENE,  BY  AUGUSTLN  CARACCI,  which  they  say  is 
a  very  beautiful  thing ;  but  which  I  do  not  like  much  better 
than  the  Magdalene  of  Tintoret  at  the  Capitol,  which  I  detest." 

"  A  HOLY  VIRGIN,  WITH  THE  CHILD  JESUS,  BY  TITIAN.  —  I 
do  not  know  how  Titian  dared  to  paint  the  mother  of  Christ. 
All  his  genius  rebelled  against  it.  I  wish  to  read  the  life  of 
Titian.  It  will  probably  confirm  me  in  my  idea,  that  no  person 
is  so  utterly  a  stranger  to  the  inspiration  and  light  of  Chris- 
tianity as  he  who,  born  in  its  bosom,  has  rejected  its  spirit  and 
its  love." 

"  A  DESCENT  FROM  THE  CROSS,  BY  RAPHAEL.  —  This  picture 
is  in  the  second  manner  of  this  immortal  man ;  and  I,  for  my 
part,  see  in  it  the  apogee  of  his  glory.  The  picture  was  painted 
at  Perugia,  and  it  was  this  chef-d'oeuvre  which  raised  the  fame 
of  Raphael  to  such  a  pitch,  that  he  was  summoned  to  Rome. 
This  beautiful  composition  is  a  perfect  poem.  Nicodemus 
supports  the  lifeless  head  and  arms  of  the  Saviour,  and  a 
young  man  lifts  his  feet.  St.  John,  with  his  head  bowed  in  all  the 
abandonment  of  grief,  fixes  his  eyes  on  his  adorable  Master. 
A  woman  holds  one  of  his  hands  in  hers,  expressing  at  once 
the  most  poignant  sorrow  and  the  most  sacred  love.  His 
mother,  pierced  by  the  divine  sword,  has  fainted  in  the  arms 
of  some  young  women.  Words  cannot  express  the  beauty, 
the  purity,  the  richness,  and  the  artlessness  of  this  marvellous 
picture.  Its  variety  equally  transcends  praise.  There  are  no 
two  heads  alike ;  none,  where  the  expression  of  the  common 
sentiment  is  not  varied.  Here  we  nave  united  all  mental 
anguish  and  all  physical  beauty,  and  a  splendor  of  imagination 
so  discreetly  employed,  as  to  combine  the  glorious  prodigality 
of  youth  with  the  thoughtful  sobriety  of  ripe  age.  No : 
Raphael  could  not  do  better  nor  rise  higher.  Those  of  his 
masterpieces  which  are  most  resplendent  with  majesty  and 
genius  have  nothing  to  compare,  in  my  eyes,  with  the  perfume 
of  spirituality  which  exhaled,  perhaps  for  the  last  time,  from  the 
descent  from  the  Cross." 

"Two  LANDSCAPES,  BY  CLAUDE  LORRAINE,  IN  HIS  FIRST 
MANNER.  —  No  part  of  these  two  pictures  corresponds  with  the 
unrivalled  glory  of  Claude  Lorraine  ;  and  yet  they  are  youthful 
attempts  which  he  would  not  disown  in  all  the  might  and  magic 
of  his  genius.  These  waters,  this  sky,  these  trees,  are  not  the 
inimitable  Claude ;  but  Galatea  was  not  herself  the  moment 
before  she  received  the  divine  breath." 


220  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"  THE  ECCE  HOMO  OF  GUERCINO. — In  this  picture,  the  God- 
man  has,  as  it  were,  anticipated  his  own  glory.  He  reigns 
already  by  the  sublimity  of  his  expressive  and  majestic  beauty. 
The  excess  of  sacred  sorrow  has  penetrated  all  his  flesh ;  it  is 
like  an  internal  fire,  which  colors,  while  it  consumes,  his  trans- 
parent cheeks.  His  eyes  are  raised  to  heaven ;  and  in  that 
look  what  power  of  prayer,  of  will,  of  yearning,  and  of  pity  ! 
All  human  plagues  and  sins  are  present  in  an  incomprehensible 
unity  to  the  Saviour's  thought.  They  rend  his  heart ;  but  we 
feel  that  he  has  not  a  moan  for  himself.  Ah  !  He  whom  earth 
saw  but  for  a  moment,  that  she  might  adore  and  mourn  him 
for  ever,  is  here  before  us,  in  this  lofty  and  evident  union  of 
two  natures,  whereof  the  invisible  is  the  one  that  appeals  most 
powerfully  to  the  intellect  and  the  heart." 

"A  FINE  PORTRAIT  OF  PHILIP  II.,  BY  TITIAN.  —  The  pose 
is  stiff,  more  supercilious  than  proud ;  and  there  is  something 
narrow  and  sour  in  the  face,  which,  nevertheless,  tries  to 
smile." 

"THE  FORNARINA,  COPIED  FROM  RAPHAEL  BY  JULES  Ro- 

MAIN.  —  What  an  immense  distance  between  this  copy  and  the 
original !     It  is  like  that  commonplace  translation  of  the  Iliad, 
of  which  somebody  has  said  that  it  rained  down." 
y 

"HOLY  FAMILY,  BY  CARLO  MARATTI. — The  artist  has  taken 
too  much  pleasure  in  feeding  the  divine  child  on  the  ambrosia 
which  Olympus  lavished  upon  its  infant  gods.  These  blooming 
and  voluptuous  shapes  are  not  in  harmony  with  the  Christ  for 
whom  wormwood  was  mingled  with  his  mother's  milk,  and  the 
bread  of  affliction  with  a  diet  always  meagre  and  severe.  The 
Holy  Virgin  has  also,  in  her  beauty,  something  which  is  rather 
attractive  than  chaste  and  regular.  We  feel  that  the  care- 
lessness of  drawing,  in  the  works  of  this  master,  sometimes 
borders  on  a  deterioration  of  ideas.  When  the  latter  have  lost 
their  original  purity  and  severity,  something  effeminate,  which 
may  be  taken  for  an  excess  of  tenderness,  begins  to  detract 
from  the  dignity  of  the  subject,  and  even  from  that  of  the  art. 
To  please  becomes  then  the  highest  aim  of  the  artist ;  and,  little 
by  little,  he  descends  to  the  level  of  the  public,  which  has  de- 
scended before  him." 

"VENICE.  — The  glory  has  departed  from  this  land,  where  its 
traces  still  linger.  There  is  nothing  to  unite  the  present  with 
the  past ;  and  the  Cathedral  in  the  midst  of  Venice  produces 
somewhat  the  effect  of  the  Egyptian  obelisks  at  Rome.  It  is  a 
monument  which  retraces  the  annals  of  another  race,  and  tells 


LIFE   OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  221 

a  story  which  the  present  generation  either  know  no  longer,  or 
know  too  well." 

"  RIMINI.  —  Who  would  forget,  among  the  souvenirs  of 
Rimini,  the  most  poetic  of  them  all  ?  Of  all  the  treasures  which 
Rimini  has  amassed  for  us,  the  most  precious  legacy  is 
Dante." 

"BRESCIA.  THE  ADULTERESS,  A  BEAUTIFUL  PICTURE  BY 
TITIAN.  —  The  figure  of  Christ  is  full  of  majesty.  It  expresses, 
in  the  highest  degree,  divine  and  uncreated  wisdom,  so  superior 
to  human  wisdom,  and  yet  so  perfectly  in  harmony  therewith. 
The  woman  is  surpassingly  beautiful,  and  in  her  coloring  Titian 
seems  to  have  excelled  himself.  Her  countenance  is  modest, 
but  expresses  neither  confusion  nor  penitence ;  it  is  the  judges 
who  have  dragged  her  into  the  Saviour's  presence,  not  the  cry 
of  her  own  conscience.  By  the  expression  of  his  face,  one  feels 
that  the  noble  words  of  pardon  have  not  yet  been  pronounced, 
and  that  the  miracle  of  conversion  awaits  the  miracle  of  mercy. 

"  All  the  great  names  of  architecture  meet  us  at  Brescia.  In 
the  midst  of  her  numerous  palaces,  we  distinguish  a  building  by 
PaHadio,  whose  facade  is  noble  and  simple  ;  and  also  a  charming 
house,  by  the  same  PaHadio,  —  a  house  with  three  windows  as 
delicious  as  Rousseau's  romance  in  three  notes." 

"  PAVIA.  —  If  the  eyes  of  the  Carthusian  were  not  turned  in- 
ward, what  a  difference  there  would  be  between  the  lot  of  the 
Carthusian  of  Pavia  and  that  of  the  Carthusian  of  Naples. 
How  unlike  are  these  horizons  !  Nature  has  refused  every  thing 
to  the  Carthusian  Convent  at  Pavia,  and  has  spread  out  be- 
neath the  one  at  Naples  her  utmost  grandeur  and  loveliness. 
He  who  has  watched  the  moon  (and  the  moon  of  Naples !)  from 
that  lofty  and  well-chosen  site,  reflected  in  the  bay  or  strik- 
ing the  rock  of  Capri,  which  seems  to  interpose  itself  between 
us  and  the  vast  sea,  like  those  slight  obstacles  which  arrest  us 
on  our  way  to  the  infinite ;  he  who  has  caught  the  sun's  rays 
falling  on  that  arid  Vesuvius,  whose  aspect  at  least  does  not 
belie,  though  it  conceals,  the  menace  of  destruction  and  death,  — 
he,  I  say,  has  but  one  step  more  to  take  to  rise  above  all  cre- 
ated things,  and  pass  from  their  glory  to  that  of  the  Infinite." 

The  reasons  which  had  induced  Mme.  Swetchine's  with- 
drawal from  France  no  longer  existed.  General  Swetchine 
quitted  Italy,  while  Mme.  Swetchine  was  visiting  Naples 
with  the  Countess  de  Nesselrode.  They  met  again  at 
Paris  in  the  spring  of  1825. 


222  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Permanent  establishment  of  Mme.  Swetchine  in  Paris.  —  Death  of  the 
Emperor  Alexander,  and  accession  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas.  —  Salon 
of  Mme.  Swetchine. — Mme.  de  Nesselrode's  residence  near  her. — 
Death  of  the  Duchess  de  Duras. 

ON  her  return  to  Paris,  Mrae.  Swetchine  established 
herself  permanently.  Until  then,  she  had  lodged  in 
the  Rue  de  Varennes,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Duchess 
de  Duras.  She  now  took,  on  a  long  lease,  a  house  in  the 
Rue  Saint  Dominique,  a  suite  of  rooms  where  she  could 
enjoy,  in  the  heart  of  one  of  the  most  brilliant  quarters  of 
Paris,  the  sunshiny  quiet  of  the  country.  Situated  at  the 
foot  of  a  court,  the  Hotel  No.  71  was  occupied  only  by 
herself  and  the  proprietors,  who  testified  a  regard  for  her 
which  has  been  transmitted  through  thirty  years,  and  to 
two  generations.  The  garden  of  the  hotel  was  not  large ; 
but  it  adjoined  other  gardens,  and  the  views  from  the  first 
story,  which  was  occupied  by  Mme.  Swetchine,  embraced 
a  long  stretch  of  lawn,  flowers,  and  beautiful  trees. 

She  sent  to  Russia  for  some  of  the  pictures,  bronzes,  and 
porcelains  which  her  father's  care  had  amassed,  and  which 
had  interested  her  childish  gaze.  "With  these  she  adorned, 
though  not  profusely,  a  drawing-room  and  a  second  apart- 
ment, which  she  had  transformed  from  a  bedroom  into  a 
library.  Her  bed,  which  was  only  a  little  iron  couch,  was 
removed  to  a  back  cabinet,  and  brought  every  day  into  the 
library,  or  into  the  drawing-room,  for  her  brief  intervals  of 
sleep.  The  rooms  occupied  by  General  Swetchine  were 


LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  223 

up-stairs,  and  every  thing  was  so  arranged  as  to  insure  the 
complete  freedom  of  his  habits. 

The  return  of  Mme.  Swetchine  was  saddened  by  the 
death  of  the  Emperor  Alexander,  to  whose  memory  she 
had  always  remained  faithfully  attached.  The  long  distance 
which  separated  her  from  her  native  land  had  never 
impaired  either  her  affection  or  her  penetration.  The 
Emperor  Alexander  expired  on  the  19th  of  November 
(1st  of  December),  1825,  at  Taganrog,  an  obscure  little 
town  on  the  confines  of  Russia.  His  last  days  were  in- 
volved in  mysterious  conspiracies,  his  life  threatened 
with  imminent  outrage,  and  they  succeeded  in  screening 
from  his  dying  eyes  the  dangers  which  threatened  his 
successor,  —  dangers  which  blazed  out  on  the  advent  of 
Nicholas,  and  which  were  only  to  be  mastered  by  heroic 
firmness. 

On  the  23d  of  April,  1826,  Mme.  Swetchine  wrote  to 
the  Countess  Edling:  — 

"  To  tell  you  what  I  have  suffered  on  account  of  our  poor 
country  since  the  late  cruel  events,  would  be  impossible. 
I  have  lived  more  in  Russia  during  the  last  four  months  than 
in  the  thirty-three  years  I  passed  there.  Her  misfortunes  and 
her  dangers  have  been  my  one  absorbing  thought.  What  a 
terrible  way  in  which  to  have  one's  patriotism  fully  awakened ! 
That  black  plot,  those  crimes  projected  in  darkness,  and, 
as  it  were,  in  cold  blood,  fill  me  with  unutterable  horror. 
What  novices  in  this  frightful  career !  They  began  where  the 
greatest  villains  have  ended.  Our  young  sovereign  and  his 
noble  conduct  are  my  only  consolation.  The  touching  traits 
which  are  ascribed  to  him  acquire  a  new  value  when  we  re- 
member his  courage,  which  was  calm  to  the  verge  of  impassi- 
bility. But  how  much  he  will  have  to  do,  and  how  needful 
it  is  that  he  should  go  to  work  at  the  foundation !  To  direct 
the  present  generation,  it  is  necessary  to  curb  it ;  a  poor  and 
inadequate  method.  It  is  by  education  that  he  must  make 
himself  master  of  the  rising  generation ;  and  he  must  look 
for  solid  results  only  as  the  fruits  of  a  wise  and  slow  culture. 


224  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

The  most  unhappy  circumstance  is,  that  the  national  elements 
are  lacking.  Most  of  those  men  who  are  more  enlightened 
than  the  rest,  have  drunk  from  poisoned  sources.  The  longer 
I  live,  the  more  firmly  I  believe  that  strength  lies  in  doctrines, 
and  not  in  men." 

Mme.  Swetchine  proceeded  to  address,  in  the  name  of 
France,  this  touching  appeal  to  her  friend,  who  was  then 
in  the  full  tide  of  creation  at  Mansir :  — 

"Nothing  can  be  more  practical  certainly  than  your  vines 
and  your  sheep,  nothing  more  rational  or  more  convenient  than 
the  money  they  will  bring  you  ;  but  please  do  not  become  too 
much  absorbed,  either  in  the  idyl  or  in  the  purse.  Think  that 
your  friend  is  pining  for  you,  and  that  our  days  are  short  as  well 
as  evil.  Make  haste,  my  dear,  good  friend!  Does  not  every 
thing  hasten  within  and  around  you  ?  I  promise  you  all  that 
you  can  desire.  We  will  pass  our  lives  together.  We  will 
enjoy  the  same  things.  My  friends  are  yours  already,  and  they 
think  you  are  delaying  too  long." 

The  salon  to  which  the  Countess  Edling  was  summoned 
with  such  tender  eloquence  was  in  reality  numbered 
among  the  most  attractive  centres  of  Parisian  society,  at 
a  time  when  Paris  could  still  boast  of  many  delightful  and 
distinguished  circles.  This  salon  was  neither  a  narrow 
guest-chamber,  nor  a  literary  coterie,  nor  a  school.  Mme. 
Swetchine  would  have  been  indignant,  if  the  word  "disciple" 
had  been  uttered  in  her  hearing.  She  was  as  averse  to 
ruling  as  to  serving.  It  was  the  incomparable  superiority 
and  the  unvarying  sweetness  of  her  presence  alone  which 
created  the  impalpable  tie  that  bound  so  many  hearts  to 
her ;  and  in  the  end  established  a  kind  of  community 
among  them,  whereof  she  was  the  soul,  and  not  the  teacher. 
With  no  other  motive  than  her  love  of  all  moral  elevation, 
and  as  free  from  envy  as  from  ambition,  she  excelled  in 
accommodating  herself  to  the  most  diverse  characters  and 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  225 

the  most  dissimilar  minds ;  in  making  prominent  the  good 
in  some,  and  excusing  the  weakness  of  others.  Souls, 
which  else  would  never  have  met,  assembled  instinctively 
under  the  shadow  of  that  inexhaustible  charity,  where 
each  in  turn  found  sympathy,  aid,  and  strength.  What 
eminently  distinguished  Mme.  Swetchine  was,  that  her 
qualities,  her  virtues,  and  her  powers  were  so  distributed, 
that  the  result  was  a  perfect  equilibrium.  She  was 
sensible  and  enthusiastic  in  about  the  same  degree,  because 
it  was  her  rare  privilege  to  have  been  endowed  with  as 
much  reason  as  imagination ;  because  she  thought  as 
deeply  as  she  felt ;  because,  though  often  a  man  in  intellect, 
she  always  remained  a  woman  in  heart ;  and,  finally,  be- 
cause her  self-abnegation  was  neither  feigned  nor  studied. 
She  lived  first  in  the  life  of  others,  then  in  public  events, 
and  thought  of  herself  only  after  she  had  taken  thought 
for  every  one  else.  She  disliked  egotism,  without  ever 
needing  to  repress  it  in  herself,  so  fully  had  she  experi- 
enced the  richness  and  sweetness  of  the  contrary  senti- 
ment. Her  soul  referred  all  to  God,  without  ignoring  a 
single  human  interest.  Her  mind  was  constantly  growing 
in  knowledge ;  but  she  loved  science  for  science'  sake, 
without  making  the  slightest  pretension  on  her  own 
account,  and  without  seeking  aught  beyond  the  delights  of 
discovery  and  of  thought  in  which  she  revelled.  She  was 
free  from  prejudice,  alike  in  her  religious  and  political 
opinions.  She  was  no  less  so  in  matters  of  art  and  litera- 
ture. We  have  just  seen  how  fully  she  appreciated  Italy. 
Her  taste  was  classical,  but  classical  in  the  widest  sense ; 
not  confined  to  the  cold  literary  propriety  which  began 
with  Boileau  and  Pope,  and  ended  with  the  official  litera- 
ture of  the  empire,  and  had  nothing  in  common  with  the 
mighty  qualities  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  Sophocles  an<J 

15 


226  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Corneille.  She  was  as  keenly  alive  to  the  bold  and  mas- 
culine beauties  of  Shakespeare  and  of  Dante  as  to  the 
exquisite  finish  of  the  seventeenth-century  writers.  She 
admired  Goethe  and  Schiller,  no  less  as  revealers  of  the 
deep  sorrows  of  their  country  and  their  time,  than  for 
their  poetic  genius.  Then,  like  all  persons  of  sound  and 
clear  judgment,  she  thought  much  of  composition  and 
form.  The  vague  terrified  her ;  it  disturbed  her  like 
indecision  of  character  and  mind.  She  dreaded  to  discover 
in  it  the  absence  of  that  moral  rectitude,  which,  above  all 
things  else,  was  dear  to  her.  Feeling,  moreover,  the 
necessity  of  reserve  and  caution  in  one's  judgments,  she 
willingly  allowed  the  tide  of  fashion  and  infatuation  to 
sweep  past  her ;  and  was  chary  alike  of  her  praise  and  her 
blame  in  regard  to  contemporary  reputations.  She  was 
never  ultra,  either  in  her  admiration  or  her  criticism.  She 
considered  that  the  embellishments  of  life  and  the  pastimes 
of  the  mind  possess  a  legitimate  charm,  and  furnish  a 
species  of  relaxation,  which,  when  partaken  in  moderation, 
unbends  and  tempers  the  powers.  She  did  not  look  upon 
poetry  and  art  as  fit  masters  of  the  heart,  the  thought,  or 
the  speech,  but  as  the  servants  of  God,  when  worthy  so 
to  be,  and  instruments  of  his  secondary  designs  upon  the 
earth. 

She  took  a  keen  interest,  and  expressed  herself  strongly, 
in  matters  of  philosophy,  history,  and  politics,  although  she 
generally  shunned  those  subjects  under  their  abstract  and 
scholastic  forms.  There  has  not  been  an  important  work 
published  for  fifty  years  in  any  of  the  principal  European 
languages,  of  which  she  has  not  made  a  careful  estimate  in 
writing ;  yet  it  very  seldom  happened,  that  she  made  use 
in  conversation  of  pedantic  technicalities,  or  terms  borrowed 
from  a  foreign  idiom.  As  a  Christian,  she  was  perfectly 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  227 

entitled  to  a  philosophy  which  was  summed  up  in  Christi- 
anity, and  always  conducted  to  it.  For  saints,  and  candi- 
dates for  saintship,  it  was  an  ascetic  philosophy ;  for  the 
mass  of  society,  a  living  and  practical  philosophy,  the  con- 
ducting wire  between  history  and  morality  and  active  life ; 
for  the  heads  of  nations,  it  was  a  rule  of  duty,  and  a  stand- 
ing treaty  for  mutual  education  between  different  social 
ranks.  She  never  pretended  that  theology  restricted  the 
Christian  to  the  natural  science  of  the  days  of  Thomas 
Aquinas,  or  any  such  era.  She  thought,  on  the  contrary, 
as  Leibnitz  had  proclaimed,  and  as  the  Church  had  never 
denied,  that  it  was  important  to  introduce  largely  into  the 
sphere  of  Christianity  all  such  acquisitions  of  the  ages  as 
were  compatible  with  its  teachings.  She  appreciated 
every  effort  of  human  genius,  without  believing  that  it 
could  dispense  with  Christian  doctrine.  She  did  not  be- 
lieve in  the  possibility  of  studying  man  in  himself,  —  infer- 
ring the  Creator  from  the  creature,  —  and  arriving  at  what 
has  been  called  natural  religion,  and,  more  recently,  natural- 
ism, independently  of  a  living  and  personal  God.  She  did 
not  admit,  that,  without  God,  all  the  celestial  mechanics  of 
a  Laplace  or  a  Lalande  could  issue  in  a  perfect  under- 
standing of  the  principles  on  which  the  system  of  the 
universe  rests.  But  no  discovery,  improvement,  or  pro- 
gressive movement  ever  found  her  indifferent  at  its  outset ; 
still  less,  hostile. 

In  politics,  she  was  firmly  and  profoundly  monarchical, 
but  strongly  on  her  guard  against  any  tendency  towards 
absolute  power.  She  beheld  in  monarchy  a  system  sup 
ported  upon  principles  the  most  favorable  to  a  people's 
development,  as  well  as  most  conformable  to  the  order 
established  by  God  in  the  constitution  of  the  family  and 
the  hierarchy  of  the  Church.  She  saw  in  it  a  state  in 


228  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

which  equity  prevails  over  force,  and  in  which  neither 
equity  nor  moderation  are  transient  accidents,  but  strict 
obligations  and  indefeasible  duties.  She  did  not  believe  in 
the  divine  right  of  kings,  in  the  absolute  sense  of  the  word. 
She  saw  and  heard  the  warnings  of  history  from  the  time 
of  the  beginnings  of  empire ;  but  she  adhered  with  un- 
swerving confidence  to  the  chief  grounds  of  authority. 
She  recognized  its  two  essential  conditions  of  power  and 
fruitfulness,  —  first,  a  national  and  popular  root,  a  com- 
plete identification  between  people  and  sovereign,  the 
people's  autonomy  being  shadowed  forth  and  represented 
in  the  person  of  the  sovereign,  without  the  sovereign's 
having  the  right  to  absorb  or  confiscate  it  to  his  own 
advantage ;  and,  secondly,  the  consecration  of  the  ages,  the 
prolonged  intertwining  of  a  people's  destiny  with  the 
destiny  of  a  royal  family,  in  whom  the  people  respected 
and  glorified  itself,  giving  to  its  obedience  the  dignity  of  a 
high  motive,  and  saluting  in  its  prince  an  undisputed  chief, 
but  not  a  master.  Outside  these  limits,  which  were  never 
overstepped,  Mme.  Swetchine  held  in  aversion  every 
thing  arbitrary,  violent,  or  hypocritical :  she  considered  it 
an  offence  against  human  conscience,  moral  life,  and  the 
lasting  prosperity  of  nations. 

Resting  upon  these  great  principles,  she  contemplated 
events  and  men  with  serenity.  She  did  not  lightly  espouse 
the  cause  of  the  victor;  but  she  refused  to  throw  herself  into 
a  fever  of  excitement  at  the  bidding  of  any  one  of  the  van- 
quished. She  did  not  enjoy  herself,  nor  did  she  approve 
in  others,  one-sided  laudings  or  denunciations.  It  was  im- 
possible for  her  to  adopt  an  argument  or  a  cause,  because 
it  personified  a  conventional  or  private  interest.  She  saw 
and  loved  the  fugitives  of  all  our  successive  regimes, 
aristocratic,  bourgeoise,  and  even  republican.  But,  however 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  229 

distinguished  they  might  be  for  intellect,  talent,  or  good- 
ness, she  held  them  all  slightly  in  suspicion,  until  she  had 
fairly  estimated  the  social  state  which  had  been  born  or 
developed  in  their  absence.  Before  all  and  above  all,  her 
desire  was  to  examine,  to  weigh,  to  test :  she  employed  all 
her  energies,  and  she  excelled  in  separating  motives  from 
deeds.  She  dreaded  lest  her  opinion,  which  always  re- 
quired the  seal  of  conscience,  should  be  engulfed  in  the 
whirlpool  of  hasty  judgments.  She  strove  to  penetrate 
into  the  true  spirit  of  her  time,  its  actual  movements  and 
tendencies ;  and,  even  when  she  held  a  decided  opinion,  she 
sought  intercourse  with  those  who  defended  the  opposite 
view.  "  Of  what  use  would  it  be  to  live,"  she  used  to  say, 
"  if  one  heard  only  one's  own  voice  ?  " 

More  than  once  her  friends  murmured  against  this 
toleration,  and  would  fain  have  compelled  her  to  opinions 
or  indignations  more  conformable  to  their  own :  she  would 
then  desist,  smilingly  or  sadly  according  to  the  importance 
of  the  conflict,  or  the  affection  she  bore  the  combatants ; 
but  she  never  allowed  herself  to  be  influenced.  Some- 
times, to  be  sure,  she  had  to  endure  sharp  reproaches  or 
protracted  sulking  from  those  who  were  unable  to  enter 
into  the  clearness  of  her  views  or  the  charity  of  her 
sentiments,  or  to  comprehend  how  far  in  some  cases  equity 
transcends  vulgar  justice.  Justice  follows  the  letter, 
applies  the  law,  and  is  in  danger  of  becoming  pharisaical. 
Equity,  more  free,  more  magnanimous,  and  more  essen- 
tially Christian,  constituted,  in  Mme.  Swetchine's  eyes,  the 
best  policy  of  great  minds. 

These  petty  resentments  faded  away  before  her  calm- 
ness, and  especially  before  her  affection,  which  always 
remained  unalterable ;  and,  in  the  end,  it  came  to  pass,  that 
her  friends  let  her  impose  on  them  a  relative  and  tempo- 


230  LIFE    OF   MAJ>AME    SWETCHINE. 

rary  impartiality.  Her  salon  came  by  degrees  to  be  neutral 
ground  in  the  midst  of  Paris,  —  not  neutral  in  sentiments  and 
ideas,  but  neutral  in  respect  of  passion,  exclusive  absorption, 
and  violence.  One  reproach  only  had  power  at  times  to 
touch  and  wound  her :  it  was  when  people  said,  "  You 
cannot  feel  this  or  that  as  we  do :  you  are  a  foreigner." 
She  would  then  repeat  the  ungrateful  word  in  strict  con- 
fidence, without  complaining  or  telling  the  speaker's  name, 
but  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

It  was  not  enthusiasm  which  people  sought  at  Mme. 
Swetchine's,  although  she  was  so  rich  in  it.  Enthusiasm 
is  God's  gift.  If  we  have  not  its  germ  within,  it  cannot  be 
communicated.  But  she  excelled  in  inciting  to  reflection, 
rectitude,  sagacity,  and  patience;  and  what  she  said  bore 
the  impress  of  an  incomparable  unction  of  the  heart.  She 
rarely  gave  what  is  called  advice,  an  absolute  solution  of  a 
given  problem :  her  humility  made  her  shrink  from  direct 
responsibilities ;  in  no  case  did  she  take  the  initiative, 
and  rather  shunned  than  provoked  confidence.  "  God 
only  gives  us  grace  to  answer,"  she  used  sometimes  to 
say.  But,  if  you  opened  your  heart  to  her,  she  extended 
you  her  hand,  and  never  drew  it  back  again.  She  did  not 
lecture  you.  She  did  not  set  herself  up  as  a  model  or 
guide.  She  did  not  say,  "  Walk  thus,"  but  sweetly, "  Let  us 
walk  together  ; "  and  so,  without  making  the  slightest  pre- 
tensions, she  often  guided  those  she  seemed  to  follow. 

Under  the  influence  of  that  gentle  will,  whose  rectitude 
and  charity  made  it  all  powerful,  one  could  not  deviate 
long:  it  became  necessary  either  to  withdraw  from  her 
entirely,  or  to  yield  to  the  ascendency  which  she  exercised, 
—  an  ascendency  unrealized  in  most  cases  without  violence, 
without  flagrant  contradiction,  without  collision  or  vehe- 
mence of  language.  If  each  one  of  us  could  descend  into 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  231 

himself,  and  take  note  of  the  alien  influences  which  have 
been  at  work  in  the  formation  of  his  thoughts,  and  the 
origin  of  his  resolutions ;  if,  without  wounding  our  own 
vanity,  we  could  arrive  at  a  clear  understanding  of  the 
extent  of  the  modification  which  has  taken  place  in  our 
souls,  —  how  many  of  our  contemporaries  would  find  in 
themselves,  their  characters,  and  the  principal  acts  of  their 
lives,  traces  of  their  intercourse  with  Mme.  Swetchine ! 

And  when  we  come  to  scrutinize  the  method  of  action, 
by  the  aid  of  which  she  exercised,  and  extended  into  the 
most  diverse  spheres,  that  influence  which  was  ever  on 
the  increase  during  thirty  years  of  an  epoch  prone  to 
shake  off  every  influence,  we  are  amazed  to  discover  that 
it  consisted,  first  of  all,  in  rejecting  any  methods,  simple  or 
complex.  Even  in  her  conversation,  Mme.  Swetchine 
never  aimed  at  effect.  Her  timidity  was  never  overcome. 
Her  first  remarks  were  generally  uncertain,  and  even 
obscure.  She  needed  to  be  carried  out  of  herself  by  the 
emotion  of  the  interview  and  the  interest  of  the  subject. 
No  novelty  of  diction,  no  attempt  at  paradox,  no  being 
carried  away  by  eloquence,  but  truth  in  all  things,  truth 
in  style  as  well  as  in  thought,  without  excess  of  ornament, 
though  never  bare.  Her  very  absence  of  all  pretension 
constituted  her  first  claim  to  originality.  Aside  from  the 
moments  when  nature  overflows,  and  the  most  humble  need 
to  give  vent  to  their  emotions,  —  moments  of  abandon 
which  she  could  always  control  and  limit,  —  she  was  never 
brilliant,  she  did  not  astonish.  You  loved  her  and 
admired  her  instinctively,  long  before  it  was  possible  to 
give  any  account  of  what  it  was  in  her  that  charmed  and 
subjugated. 

Mme.  Swetchine's  household  was  very  carefully  or- 
dered, though  without  affected  refinements  of  any  sort. 


232  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

She  never  invited  her  friends  to  a  set  soiree  or  dinner; 
but  she  delighted  to  assemble  about  a  small,  round  table, 
a  few  persons,  who  were  glad  to  meet  one  another  in  her 
presence.  Her  repast  was  then  served  with  elegance,  and 
she  presided  over  it  with  the  thoughtful  attention  which 
she  bestowed  even  on  little  things.  Her  drawing-room, 
open  morning  and  evening,  was  almost  always  adorned 
with  some  flowering  plant,  or  some  object  of  art,  loaned 
her  by  a  friend,  and  which  an  artist  considered  it  a  great 
favor  to  see  displayed  in  her  room.  The  splendors  of  the 
Hermitage  had  given  her  a  taste  for  brilliant  light.  In 
the  evening,  except  in  the  very  last  years  of  her  life,  her 
saloon  sparkled  with  lamps  and  candles,  which  gave,  on 
your  first  entrance,  a  somewhat  worldly  air  to  the  scene. 
This  exterior  was,  in  fact,  destined  for  the  eyes  of  the 
world.  She  wanted  her  guests  to  find  there  the  peculiar 
refinements  to  which  they  were  accustomed,  and  by  which 
their  lighter  tastes  were  gratified ;  but  you  soon  saw  that 
the  interior  belonged  to  God,  and  that  she  who  possessed 
these  advantages  was  not  possessed  by  them.  It  was  just 
the  same  with  the  first  impression  created  by  her  conver- 
sation. 

There  was  nothing  austere  or  grave  to  begin  with. 
Social  intercourse  was  there,  as  elsewhere,  trite  or  super- 
ficial or  languid,  at  the  outset ;  but  presently  a  current 
of  superior  intellect  began  to  renovate  and  vivify  the 
atmosphere.  A  good  word  fitly  spoken,  a  gleam  of  intel- 
ligence, an  impulse  of  affection,  changed  and  enlivened  the 
scene.  People  arrived  at  last  at  a  degree  of  earnestness 
which  no  one  had  foreseen  or  prepared  for ;  and  thus  it 
was,  that  numbers  of  worldly  people,  persons  of  light  and 
wavering  convictions,  who  would  have  been  on  their  guard 
against  premeditation,  and  stiffened  themselves  against 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  233 

attack,  yielded  to  the  undeniable  charm  of  sincerity  and 
novelty.  More  than  one  visitor,  who  had  obtained  an  intro- 
duction to  Mme.  Swetchine  from  motives  of  curiosity  or 
vanity,  found  in  her  presence  what  he  had  not  come  to 
seek,  and  went  out  other  than  he  came  in. 

At  all  periods,  Paris,  the  capital  of  European  society, 
has  counted  political,  literary,  and  aesthetic  salons.  The 
salon  of  Mme.  Swetchine  neither  disclaimed  nor  affected 
any  of  these  titles ;  but  it  was  above  all,  without  ostenta- 
tion or  premeditation,  a  Christian  fireside.  The  catholic 
spirit  did  not  aim  at  ascendency  there,  but  it  naturally 
irradiated  the  place.  Mme.  Swetchine  had  never  arro- 
gated to  herself  a  mission.  She  knew  too  well  that  mis- 
sions are  not  improvised,  and  come  only  from  above ;  but 
she  made  it  a  point  of  duty  to  be  unfailingly  affable.  She 
regarded  it  as  the  tribute  due  for  her  birth,  her  fortune, 
and  her  intellect.  The  least  worldly  advantages  were,  in 
her  eyes,  instruments  of  Providence,  whereof  all,  without 
exception,  must  render  an  exact  account.  She  had  had  no 
previous  ambition  to  establish  a  celebrated  salon  ;  but  when 
that  salon  had  grown  up  of  itself,  through  the  attractive, 
latent,  involuntary  virtue  which  dwelt  in  her  as  in  the 
magnet,  her  very  modesty  would  not  allow  her  to  evade 
her  responsibility.  Without  appreciating  all  the  good  she 
did,  she  had  too  much  sagacity  and  too  much  experience 
in  human  nature  not  to  have  glimpses  of  the  pre-eminence 
which  so  many  hearts  and  so  many  diverse  minds  accorded 
her ;  nor  did  she  fail  to  comprehend  that  she  ought  —  as 
far  as  this  might  depend  on  her  action  and  her  example  — 
to  bring  nearer  to  God  all  who  came  near  to  her.  Soon, 
hers  became  a  ministry  of  conscience  ;  and,  from  that  time, 
neither  her  sufferings,  which  were  excruciating,  nor  her 
tastes,  which  often  made  her  sigh  for  study  and  retirement, 


234  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

were  any  check  upon  her  self-devotion ;  and  she  finally 
came  to  look  upon  herself  in  the  light  of  a  sentinel  who 
has  received  his  countersign,  and  must  keep  it  until  death. 

This  sentiment  alone  can  explain  her  inexhaustible 
patience.  No  one  ever  surprised  in  her  an  emotion  of  irri- 
tation or  of  ennui.  At  one  time,  she  was  confronted  with 
presumptuous  self-conceit,  which  laid  down  the  law  to  her 
on  matters  in  which  she  might  have  instructed  the  world ; 
at  another,  she  had  to  deal  with  representatives  of  science 
or  polemics,  who  pertinaciously  seized  upon  her  soiree, 
and  appropriated  it  for  the  development  of  their  favorite 
subjects.  Yet  again,  when  the  conversation  was  especially 
to  her  taste,  the  door  would  open  to  admit  some  idle  lady, 
or  some  one  of  her  modest  friends  who  were  strangers  to 
the  world,  and  all  subjects  of  general  interest.  But  never 
did  these  fatigues,  these  usurpations,  or  these  untimely 
interruptions,  elicit  the  slightest  symptom  of  vexation. 
The  humble  was  never  sacrificed  to  the  proud,  the  tedious 
to  the  agreeable,  the  poor  to  the  rich.  A  woman  with  a 
great,  name  tormented  her  salon  and  her  friends  for  fifteen 
years;  she  burst  forth  like  a  tempest  on  any  and  every 
occasion,  multiplied  her  questions  without  waiting  for 
replies,  and  the  announcement  of  her  name  was  the  signal 
for  a  general  dispersion ;  but  she  never  met  with  a  hesi- 
tating or  a  cool  reception.  Mme.  Swetchine  calmly  dis- 
couraged all  the  attempts  against  Mme.  de  X.,  by  saying 
sweetly,  "  What  would  you  have  ?  Everybody  avoids 
her ;  she  is  unhappy,  and  she  has  no  one  but  me." 
Mme.  de  X.  died  in  old  age ;  and,  in  her  last  days,  it 
was  Mme.  Swetchine  who  sought  her  out,  and  lingered 
longest  by  her  death-bed. 

Sometimes,  also,  implacable  antagonists  met  in  her 
salon,  and  this  reduced  her  to  mute  but  utter  despair. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  235 

There  was,  for  instance,  a  standing  quarrel  between  Cheva- 
lier Z.  and  M.  Y.  When  the  Chevalier  Z.  had  had  the 
good  fortune  to  arrive  first,  plant  himself  before  the  fire, 
and  give  himself  up  to  the  triumph  of  a  dissertation  on 
some  oriental  manuscript,  without  an  opposing  voice ;  if 
M.  Y.  made  his  appearance,  he  at  once  relapsed  into  silence, 
glided  behind  the  arm-chairs,  and  gained  the  door  unob- 
served. Mme.  Swetchine  only  followed  him  with  her 
eyes,  softened  his  flight  by  a  graceful  "  au  revoir"  and 
sometimes  even  had  the  courage  to  reproach  the  con- 
queror. 

Women  who  are  not  ordinarily  accessible  to  the  influ- 
ence of  another  woman,  were  confidential  and  docile  to 
Mme.  Swetchine.  Young  and  old  acknowledged  her  sway. 
That  which  gives  rise  to  hostility  among  women,  did  not 
exist  in  Mme.  Swetchine.  She  never  awoke  a  sentiment 
of  rivalry,  because  no  one  ever  detected  in  her  a  tempta- 
tion to  win  admiration  at  the  expense  of  others,  or  to 
eclipse  any  person  whatever.  Her  disinterestedness  won 
pardon  for  her  superiority. 

This  woman,  who,  when  she  could  snatch  an  hour  of 
solitude,  gave  herself  up  to  the  severest  studies,  and,  as 
she  sometimes  confessed,  plunged  into  metaphysics  as  into 
a  bath,  was  all  grace  and  gayety  the  moment  a  young  lady 
entered  her  salon.  Beauty,  elegance,  freshness  of  age 
and  emotions,  gave  Mme.  Swetchine  unaffected  pleasure. 
All  who  were  just  entering  life  appeared  to  her  peculiarly 
interesting,  and  needful  of  support.  Her  taste  in  matters 
of  the  toilet,  as  in  every  thing  else,  was  fine  and  unerring. 
She,  whose  simple  dress  never  varied,  and  consisted  only 
of  a  costume  of  brown  stuff,  made  up  in  one  unchanging 
fashion,  did  not  condemn  dress  in  others,  when  that  dress 
was  in  harmony  with  their  station.  Young  ladies  loved 


236  LIFE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

to  display  themselves  to  her  in  the  evening,  in  all  the  bril- 
liancy of  their  ball-room  attire.  It  gave  Mine.  Swetchine 
sincere  pleasure  to  admire  them,  to  praise  them,  though 
not  in  the  hackneyed  language  of  compliment,  and  gently 
to  indicate  what  she  thought  excessive.  And  so  it  often 
came  to  pass,  that,  after  that  swift  evening  apparition,  the 
young  girl  came  back  in  the  morning,  at  the  hour  of  tete-a- 
tetes,  influenced  by  graver  thoughts,  and  soliciting  a  very  dif- 
ferent kind  of  advice.  It  was  then  that  sick  or  erring  hearts 
came  and  revealed  themselves  to  Mme.  Swetchine  in  all 
sincerity,  and  then  that  she  shed  upon  them,  sweetly  and 
gradually,  light,  truth,  and  life.  Sometimes  she  struck  at 
the  very  root  of  the  evil ;  sometimes  she  arrested  its 
development,  and  then  again  she  applied  herself  to  healing 
old  wounds,  or  indicated  the  most  efficacious  mode  of 
curing  them,  or  neutralizing  their  effect.  God  only  knows 
what  passed  in  those  interviews,  how  much  was  quietly 
done  for  his  service  and  his  glory  in  those  secret  confer- 
ences, which  often  ended  in  tears,  when  they  had  begun 
with  the  frivolous  chat  of  the  drawing-room.  Hence  it 
was,  that  so  many  young  souls  loved  in  her  a  spiritual 
mother,  and  vowed  to  her  a  sort  of  worship,  whose  ardor, 
checked  and  repressed  by  the  very  mystery  of  its  origin, 
was  only  freely  revealed  after  she  had  been  taken  away. 

Mme.  Swetchine,  in  her  turn,  drew  from  this  intimate 
intercourse,  added  to  her  own  exquisite  penetration,  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  human  heart  which  amounted  almost  to  divina- 
tion. A  word,  a  gesture,  a  glance,  a  remark,  or  a  pause, 
unnoticed  by  the  world,  became  a  whole  revelation  to  her ; 
and  when  you  subsequently  came  to  her,  thinking  to  tell 
her  every  thing,  you  at  once  perceived  that  she  knew  all  in 
advance,  both  virtues  and  defects.  She  knew  already  what 
had  never  been  told  her,  and  sometimes  even  what  one 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  237 

was  striving  to  hide.  She  knew  the  science  of  the  soul, 
as  physicians  know  that  of  the  body.  Common  men  see 
in  a  plant  only  its  form  and  its  color :  the  botanist  per- 
ceives, at  first  sight,  the  family  to  which  it  belongs,  and 
the  laws  which  it  obeys.  He  needs  but  a  glance  at  the 
flower  you  hold  in  your  hand  to  be  able  to  say,  "  You  come 
from  the  mountain  or  the  plain,  from  the  south  or  the 
region  of  snows."  Such  was  the  glance  of  Mme.  Swet- 
chine.  A  feature,  a  lineament,  sufficed  to  enable  her  to 
recognize  and  reconstruct  a  whole  moral  nature. 

Mme.  Swetchine's  days  were  divided  into  three  dis- 
tinct parts.  She  reserved  the  morning  exclusively  to  her- 
self; but  her  morning  began  before  day.  At  eight  o'clock, 
she  had  heard  mass,  and  visited  the  poor.  She  then 
came  home,  and  her  doors  were  closed  till  three  o'clock. 
From  three  to  six,  her  drawing-room  was  open ;  it  was 
closed  from  six  to  nine.  At  nine,  her  soiree  commenced, 
and  rarely  closed  before  midnight.  The  habitues  of  the 
afternoon  and  evening  were  generally  different.  Certain 
persons  who  passed  every  evening  with  Mme.  Swetchine, 
had  never  encountered  or  made  the  acquaintance  of  others 
who  had  chosen  the  morning.  The  Marquise  de  Pastoret, 
for  instance,  who  came  to  Mme.  Swetchine's  every  day, 
came  there  only  between  four  and  six  o'clock,  when  she 
returned  from  visiting  the  hospitals,  and  after  the  accom- 
plishment of  her  countless  works  of  charity.  In  the 
evening,  with  a  grace  and  dignity  equal  to  those  of  Mine. 
Swetchine,  Mme.  de  Pastoret  did  the  honors  of  her  hus- 
band's house,  either  at  the  chancellor's  residence,  or,  after 
he  had  resigned  his  chancellorship,  in  his  hotel  in  the 
Place  Louis  XV. 

One  evening,  however,  Mme.  de  Pastoret  was  seized 
with  sudden  anxiety  about  a  friend,  and  wanted  to  go  to 


238  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

her.  Her  coachman  made  some  opposition,  and  desired 
to  speak  with  her.  "  I  am  at  your  orders,  Mme.  la  Mar- 
quise," he  said,  respectfully ;  "  but  I  ought  to  apprise  you 
that  I  cannot  answer  for  the  consequences.  My  horses 
have  never  seen  lighted  lanterns."  Others  preferred  the 
afternoon,  when  they  were  more  secure  against  interrup- 
tions and  the  advent  of  numbers. 

During  the  last  years  of  the  Restoration,  which  we 
have  yet  to  review,  Mme.  Swetchine  continued  occasion- 
ally to  go  out  herself,  either  to  hear  music,  or  to  visit  the 
Duchess  de  Duras  or  Mme.  de  Montcalm,  who  were  equally 
confined  by  ill  health. 

To  the  lifelong  friends  we  have  already  enumerated, 
must  be  added,  after  Mme.  Swetchine's  return  from  Italy, 
the  Duke  de  Laval,  the  Countess  de  Gontaut,  sister  of 
Cardinal  de  Rohan,  Mme.  Recamier,  and  M.  Ballanche. 
Mme.  Recamier  had  earnestly  begged  Mme.  Swetchine  to 
adopt,  in  common  with  herself,  the  asylum  of  the  Abbaye- 
aux-Bois ;  and,  but  for  the  objections  of  General  Swet- 
chine, this  establishment  would  probably  have  been  the 
object  of  Mme.  Swetchine's  decided  preference. 

Count  de  Sales,  the  last  and  worthy  representative  of 
the  great  name  of  Saint  Francois  de  Sales,  also  became, 
along  with  Mgr.  Lambruschini,  nuncio  of  the  Holy  See,  one 
of  the  most  constant  guests  at  the  hotel  in  the  Rue  St. 
Dominique.  Mgr.  de  Quelen,  also,  came  as  often  as  the 
onerous  administration  of  a  diocese  like  that  of  Paris 
allowed.  The  King's  ministers,  and  the  officers  of  the 
Restoration,  could  only  testify  their  interest  at  rare  inter- 
vals ;  while  she  herself  was  always  extremely  reserved 
about  approaching  persons  in  power.  Yet  this  sentiment 
never  amounted  to  indifference,  in  proof  of  which  we  will 
cite  some  extracts,  selected  at  hazard,  from  her  corre- 
spondence :  — 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHJNE.  239 


TO  MLLE.   DE  VIRIEU. 

Oct.  5, 1824. 

While  you  were  writing  me,  what  great  events  were  pre- 
paring at  Paris 1 1  .  .  .  I  have  but  one  fear,  and  that  is,  that 
inv  favorite  opinions  will  be  too  much  in  vogue.  That  is  not 
the  worst  that  can  happen,  certainly ;  nevertheless,  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  there  is  always  danger.  When  it  is  opinions  that 
are  wrong,  the  evil  is  only  slowly  eradicated ;  but,  if  authority 
makes  use  of  violent  remedies,  a  transient  obedience  is  only 
purchased  at  the  expense  of  future'  danger.  I  desire  for  reli- 
gion what  economists  demand  for  commerce,  — that  it  should  be 
allowed  to  take  its  own  course  without  interference  ;  but,  in  our 
days,  people  will  not  call  time  to  their  aid,  —  time  which,  when 
properly  employed,  weakens  all  that  is  pernicious,  and  consoli- 
dates all  which  is  truly  desirable. 

On  the  24th  of  December,  she  wrote  again  to  Mile,  de 
Virieu :  — 

"  The  enthusiasm  which  the  King  excites  is  unparalleled. 
One  must  go  back  to  the  days  of  Henry  IV.  to  get  an  idea  of 
his  popularity.  Parties,  one  and  all,  confine  themselves  to  a 
flourish  of  their  respective  trumpets.  Anxieties  for  the  past 
and  future  are  alike  abjured.  The  general  satisfaction  is  a 
pleasant  thing;  but  one  cannot  help  asking  one's  self,  why 
these  sudden  illuminations  come  so  late ;  and  how  a  large 
proportion  of  the  people  can  be  fickle  enough  to  pass  so  quickly 
from  fear  and  suspicion  to  the  most  joyous  confidence.  The 
noble  emancipation  of  the  press,  and  the  words  uttered  by  the 
Dauphin  on  the  occasion,  show  better  than  any  thing  else 
the  spirit  in  which  the  King  proposes  to  rule.  The  first  page 
of  the  reign  of  Charles  X.  is  like  certain  sonnets,  —  in  itself 
worth  a  long  poem.  I  have  been  a  French  woman  ever  since 
I  knew  my  own  heart.  I  have  never  admitted  any  other 
authority  in  France  than  that  of  the  Bourbons,  and  I  glory 
in  their  triumphs  like  their  most  devoted  servants.  Ah,  what 
poor  creatures  we  are  !  If  we  could  only  be  just  and  impartial, 
once  for  all ! " 

We  have  seen,  by  the  cares  she  lavished  on  the  young 
Nadine,  what  a  place  her  adopted  daughter  held  in  the 

1  The  accession  of  Charles  X.,  and  the  auspicious  measures  by  which 
it  was  signalized. 


240  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

interior  life  of  Mnae.  Swetchine.  When  Mile.  Staeline 
became  Countess  of  Segur  d'Aguesseau,  and  undertook,  in 
her  turn,  the  duties  of  a  wife  and  mother,  Mme.  Swetchine 
felt  a  void  which  could  only  be  filled  by  a  new  attachment. 
Mme.  de  Nesselrode  was  anxious  about  the  health  of 
one  of  her  daughters,  a  mere  child,  whom  she  could  nofc 
herself  remove  from  the  dangers  of  the  Russian  climate. 
We  do  not  learn  from  the  correspondence  of  these  two 
friends,  how  the  thought  originated  of  confiding  the  child 
of  the  one  to  the  heart  of  the  other.  It  is  probable  that 
the  wish  and  the  consent  were  the  result  of  one  of  those 
spontaneous  impulses  which  reciprocally  meet  and  forestall 
one  another.  Little  Helen  de  Nesselrode  assumed  her 
share  in  the  maternal  solicitude  of  Mme.  Swetchine  in  the 
beginning  of  the  year  1829.  She  was  fourteen  years  old; 
that  is,  at  the  age  when  the  instincts  of  the  heart  are  all 
alive,  while  the  reason  is  as  yet  undeveloped.  From  that 
time,  the  correspondence  of  Mme.  Swetchine  and  Mme.  de 
Nesselrode  becomes  a  complete  and  admirable  treatise  on 
education.  This  precious  correspondence,  like  so  many 
others,  deserves  some  time  to  be  published  separately  ;  but 
meanwhile  it  may  afford  us  a  glimpse  of  Mme.  Swetchine's 
new  cares :  — 

TO  THE  COUNTESS  DE  NESSELRODE. 

Dec.  12, 1829. 

MY  VERY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  Every  thing  goes  well  between 
Helen  and  me :  I  have  obtained  a  foothold.  It  is  not  words 
that  import:  it  is  their  effect;  and  in  her  case,  at  least,  my 
conscience  can  be  entirely  absolved  by  success  only.  I  still 
pursue,  and  probably  shall  for  some  time  to  come,  my  system 
of  temporization.  I  wish  to  attack  only  when  I  am  sure  of 
victory,  and  this  cannot  come  all  at  once.  I  accustom  her  to 
think  that  there  are  certain  things  which  I  do  not  approve,  but 
which  I  shall  not  blame  very  severely  to  begin  with.  What 
she  lacks,  in  common  with  all  other  children,  is  self-control ; 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  241 

and  that  is  not  acquired  in  a  day.  I  am  preparing  her  for  it 
gradually.  Errors  into  which  she  fell  two  months  ago  would 
be  impossible  to  her  to-day,  because  she  herself  has  condemned 
them.  Her  faith  in  me  increases  daily.  I  court  and  foster  it 
with  all  the  skill  and  strategy  at  my  command  ;  and  my  strategy 
is  truth,  but  truth  with  the  charm  of  perfect  unconstraint. 
Thus,  to  induce  her  to  open  her  heart  to  me,  I  open  mine  to  all 
her  interests,  reminiscences,  and  feelings.  I  try  to  make  her 
talk  of  those  who  are  dear  to  her.  I  give  her  a  share  in  the 
things  which  interest  me.  If  she  brings  me  a  letter  which  she 
has  just  received,  I  make  her  read  one  of  mine.  When  I  talk 
with  her,  I  never  condescend  to  her;  I  place  her  apparently 
on  my  own  level,  and,  by  means  of  the  habits  which  1  induce 
her  to  form,  I  acquire  necessarily  an  influence  which  command 
and  coercion  never  would  have  given  me.  The  right  of  con- 
quest is  not  equal  to  the  right  of  birth,  say  what  you  will ;  and 
one  must  make  one's  self  beloved  and  acknowledged,  instead 
of  imposing  one's  authority. 


January,  1830. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — You  seem  to  feel  the  need  of  impart- 
ing to  me  some  of  the  satisfaction  which  fills  your  own  heart. 
Happiness  is  not  enough  for  you  :  you  want  to  deserve  it ; 
and  I  am  grateful  for  your  ingenious  way  of  telling  me  that 
you  appreciate  my  affection.  Yes,  it  does  not  fail ;  it  feeds 
upon  your  cares,  is  identified  with  your  interests,  and  makes 
me  keenly  alive  to  all  which  affects  you.  Through  those  I 
love  I  feel  rich,  and,  as  it  were,  endowed  anew  with  prosperity 
and  hope.  I  could  never  have  believed  that  this  dear  little 
Helen  could  so  have  insinuated  herself  into  my  affections. 
She  moves  me  to  the  very  depths  of  my  being,  and  I  feel  all  a 
mother's  deep  yet  sweet  solicitude. 

To  return  to  our  dear  child  :  she  gets  on  well  with  her  les- 
sons, and  I  think  they  will  be  useful  to  her.  She  seizes  with 
wonderful  avidity  on  all  beauties,  true  or  false,  which  bear  the 
stamp  of  elevation  and  grandeur.  When  she  is  moved,  she  is 
transported.  Just  now  we  are  reading  the  Greek  tragedies. 
Each  subject,  as  treated  by  the  ancients,  I  follow  up  with  the 
modern  imitations  in  the  languages  with  which  she  is  familiar; 
and  so  we  get  a  sort  of  whole,  which  captivates  her  attention, 
and  stimulates  her  curiosity.  You  do  not  yet  know,  perhaps, 
that  I  have  given  her  an  additional  "master,  —  M.  Saigey,  —  a 
man  strongly  recommended  by  M.  Cuvier,  and  who  does  credit 

16 


242  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCEUXE. 

even  to  that  recommendation.  I  applied  to  him  for  a  course 
of  general  geography,  and  he  enters  into  my  views  admirably. 
His  knowledge  is  of  the  clearest  and  most  entertaining  de- 
scription, and  is  communicated  in  so  sprightly  a  manner,  that 
fatigue  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  If  Helen  develops  a  taste 
for  it,  they  will  go  on  to  political  geography,  which  every  one 
ought  to  understand,  —  taking  up  the  different  ideas  which 
attach  to  our  globe  under  the  varying  aspects  of  its  structure, 
its  elements,  and  the  principal  phenomena  which  it  presents. 
This  will  amount  to  nothing  else  than  a  history  of  the  earth, 
the  heavens,  and  the  ocean ;  but  we  shall  confine  ourselves 
to  the  most  general  facts,  and  only  aim  at  imparting  a  knowl- 
edge of  things  which  are  daily  alluded  to,  even  in  drawing-room 
conversation.  I  am  making  the  experiment  without  feeling 
confident  of  its  success.  We  shall  widen  or  contract  the  course 
we  wish  her  to  pursue,  according  to  the  facilities  afforded  us  by 
her  natural  tastes,  and  teachableness  of  disposition. 


Dec.  15, 1830. 

I  leave  it  to  your  own  heart,  my  dear  friend,  to  guess  the 
joy  afforded  me  by  your  little  letter  of  November  27.  The 
improvement  which  struck  you  in  Helen's  letter  is  all  the  more 
real  because  nothing  is  urged  upon  her.  I  would  rather  not 
see  her  do  well  than  incur  the  risk  attendant  on  forcing  her  to 
do  so.  It  is  not  what  she  does  to-day  that  I  really  care  for: 
it  is  what  she  is  becoming,  —  what  I  may  be  able  to  prepare 
and  develop  largely  and  finely  for  the  future.  We  are  apt  to 
forget  that  education  is  the  means,  and  not  the  end ;  that  it  does 
not  matter  so  much  what  we  obtain  by  immediate  influence  as 
what  we  may  have  insured  against  a  time  when  that  influence 
shall  have  ceased.  No  one,  surely,  sets  a  higher  value  than  I 
upon  a  compassionate  and  charitable  spirit ;  but  I  avoid  every 
direct  injunction  and  exhortation  thereto.  I  do  not  even  sur- 
prise and  take  advantage  of  her  generous  impulses  when  I 
perceive  that  they  are  vague  and  fugitive.  It  is  thus  that 
I  can  best  assure  myself  of  the  steps  she  is  really  taking,  and 
thoroughly  enjoy  it  where  they  are  progressive.  Thus,  the 
other  day,  she  came  to  me,  with  an  air  of  satisfaction  whi^h 
anticipated  my  own,  and  begged  to  be  permitted,  out  of  her 
monthly  allowance,  to  pay  half  the  board  of  a  little  girl  whom 
I  had  just  placed  in  the  House  of  Industry.  I  asked  her  if 
she  had  reflected  on  the  matter,  and  fully  made  up  her  mind ; 
and,  after  receiving  the  liveliest  assurances  on  her  part,  I  gave 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  243 

my  consent,  and  told  her.  it  would  increase  my  pleasure  in  a 
good  work  to  have  her  share  it  with  me. 

Difficulties  which,  six  months  ago,  used  still  to  come  up 
sometimes,  no  longer  exist.  Warned  by  Helen's  own  shrewd 
and  correct  judgment,  I  remember  that  the  only  genuine  supe- 
riority is  that  of  reason,  and  that  authority  itself  must  appeal 
to  it. 

Mile,  de  Nesselrode  did  not  leave  Mme.  Swetchine  till 
the  eve  of  her  marriage  with  the  Count  Michel  Chrep- 
towitch ;  and  her  filial  devotion  is  to  this  day  a  living 
witness  to  the  love  of  which  she  was  the  object. 

Mme.  Swetchine  went  in  person,  and  restored  Helen  to 
the  protection  of  the  Countess  de  Nesselrode,  who  was 
then  on  a  visit  to  the  baths  of  Brighton,  in  company  with 
the  Grand-duchess  Helena.  This  trip  afforded  Mme. 
Swetchine  an  opportunity  for  a  rapid  excursion  to  London 
and  other  parts  of  England. 

These  domestic  joys,  these  noble  and  fruitful  years  of 
the  Restoration,  were  saddened  for  Mme.  Swetchine  by 
unremitting  anxiety  about  the  health  of  the  Duchess  de 
Duras,  and  finally  by  her  premature  death.  After  she 
came  back  from  Italy,  Mme.  Swetchine  felt  that  she  must 
indemnify  herself  for  the  privations  of  her  absence,  and 
had  seized  every  opportunity  for  passing  a  few  months 
with  her  friend  at  Andilly  or  St.  Germain.  "  Paris,"  she 
said,  "  is  a  place  where  it  is  more  convenient  for  people  to 
hate  than  to  love  each  other ; "  and  she  wrote  to  the 
Countess  de  Nesselrode,  in  speaking  of  some  plans  for 
being  nearer  the  Duchess  de  Duras:  — 

"Protracted  separations  are  bad  things;  and  a  few  days 
spent  together  remove  the  most  formidable  inconveniences  of 
absence.  If  in  our  first  youth  we  reckon  on  the  future,  and 
trouble  appears  only  provisional,  we  do  not  hold  the  present 
BO  cheap  when  we  get  on  iu  life.  We  want  to  grasp  all, 
for  we  leel  that  all  is  about  to  escape  us.  I  feel  so  old, 


244  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

that  I  seem  to  be  only  capable  of  continuing.  The  sole  reason 
for  doing  a  thing  to-morrow  appears  to  be  that  I  did  it  to-day. 
Most  of  us  have  some  worldly  cares ;  and,  if  we  would  be  sure 
of  accomplishing  any  thing,  the  best  way  is  to  manage  so  as  to 
do  a  little  every  day." 

This  part  of  Mme.  Swetchine's  correspondence  soon 
becomes  very  sad ;  and  she  details  fully  to  Mme.  de  Nessel- 
rode  the  symptoms  which  presage  her  irrevocable  loss :  — 

October  30. 

I  told  you,  in  my  last,  that  I  hoped  to  prolong  my  peaceful 
isolation  till  November ;  but  the  news  I  received  of  Mme.  de 
Duras's  terrible  accident  induced  a  sudden  change  of  plan. 
One  night,  after  she  had  been  about  as  usual  through  the 
day,  she  saw  the  light  of  a  lamp  near  her  suddenly  disap- 
pear, then  turned  her  head  and  saw  it  again.  The  eye  and 
cheek  towards  the  lamp  had  been  paralyzed ;  the  blindness 
of  the  eye  was  complete.  You  can  judge  of  the  anxiety  and 
terror  of  the  moment !  The  most  prompt  and  efficacious  remedies 
•were  employed,  and  the  eye  appeared  to  recover  its  functions ; 
but  so  imperfectly,  that  even  now  she  can  scarcely  distinguish 
the  outlines  of  objects.  As  if  there  were  not  danger  enough 
in  this  appalling  menace,  we  are  anxious  about  her  in  other 
respects.  The  physicians  think  that  the  attack  was  only  a 
sympathetic  affection,  and  they  seem  to  apprehend  some  organic 
difficulty.  The  other  day,  she  suffered  excruciatingly  for  six 
or  seven  hours,  after  taking  a  few  spoonfuls  of  chiccory  pea- 
soup.  Add  to  this,  that  her  nerves  are  in  a  state  of  constant 
irritability,  that  she  is  extremely  depressed,  and  has  fainting 
fits,  which  are  very  critical,  coming  at  a  time  when  she  is  so 
unable  to  bear  them.  The  change  in  her,  alone,  would  give 
ground  for  every  apprehension.  It  is  a  complete  overthrow. 
But  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  the  moment  our  dear  friend  feels 
a  little  better,  she  walks ;  she  makes  the  tour  of  her  garden ; 
and  I  have  seen  her  prolong  her  walk  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
without  inconvenience. 

It  is  the  same  with  her  mind.  Her  silence  and  profound 
pre-occupation  often  give  place  to  an  overflowing  tenderness 
of  expression  when  she  chats  a  little,  and  smiles  that  kind, 
bright  smile  which  imparts  such  a  charm  to  her  countenance. 
I  am  profoundly  struck  by  the  affecting  religious  submission 
with  which  she  meets  all  her  sufferings,  and  the  danger  which 
threatens  her.  The  first  thing  she  said  to  me  was,  that  she 


LIFE    OP   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  245 

regarded  her  present  state  as  incurable,  a  sort  of  transition 
from  life  to  death.  She  said  she  felt  it  to  be  a  warning  from 
God,  and  her  sole  wish  was  to  profit  by  it ;  in  short,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  approach  the  greatest  and  most  solemn 
thoughts  with  more  courage  and  actual  power  of  mind.  What 
an  immense  consolation  the  goodness  of  God  has  vouchsafed 
us !  but  it  is  all  the  more  sorrowful  and  affecting  to  turn  our 
thoughts  inward,  and  measure  the  greatness  of  the  loss  with 
which  we  are  threatened.  Those  who  only  knew  Mme.  do 
Duras  superficially  cannot  have  been  prepared  for  the  proof 
she  is  affording  of  genuine  greatness  of  soul ;  but  for  me,  my 
dear  friend,  no  emotion  of  surprise  mingles  with  my  sad  joy. 
The  world  and  life  may  have  been  too  noisy  about  her ;  but  she 
was  right-minded  enough  to  rise  superior  to  it  all,  and  God  is 
showing  forth  in  her  all  the  triumphs  of  his  grace,  by  appro- 
priating to  himself  the  capabilities  for  passionate  devotion 
which  constitute  the  essence  of  her  character.  I  have  met  in 
the  world,  which,  to  some  extent,  ignores  these  details,  people 
who  were  persuaded  that  Mme.  de  Duras  was  a  prey  to  all  the 
anguish  of  an  utter  revolt  against  the  fear  of  death,  and  that 
she  repudiated  the  idea.  They  represent  her  as  carried  away 
by  an  imagination  which  knows  not  how  to  submit ;  while  I 
and  many  others  can  testify,  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
understand  the  truth  more  fully  than  does  she,  or  to  face  it 
with  greater  courage  and  sweetness.  Even  the  natural  conflict 
between  the  instinct  of  existence  and  the  fear  of  the  terrible 
transition,  seems  to  have  ceased.  Her  resignation  has  sur- 
mounted all,  and  taken  away  from  her  sorrow  all  that  was 
gnawing  and  destructive.  My  uneasiness  is  very  great,  dear 
friend ;  but  she  herself  has  intervals  of  hope.  Sometimes  I 
am  utterly  dejected,  and  then  again  I  tell  myself  that  I  exag- 
gerate her  danger,  and  that  there  are  a  good  many  examples 
which  might  re-assure  me.  No  one  could  be  more  careful, 
attentive,  and  charming  than  Clara  is  with  her  mother.  I  have 
found  myself  doubly  attracted  to  her  during  my  stay  at  St. 
Germain.  She  is  one  of  the  best  and  most  thoughtful  mothers 
I  know,  and  the  tenderest  of  wives ;  but  now  one  would  say 
she  was  a  daughter  only,  so  exclusively  does  she  consecrate 
herself  to  her  mother.  Mme.  de  Larochejacqueline  has  been 
detained,  by  the  sickness  of  her  mother-in-law,  at  one  of  her 
estates  in  Vendee. 

The  attack  described  by  Mme.  Swetchine  with  such 
anxious  fidelity,  did  not  cost  Mme.  de  Duras  her  life ;  but 
it  shook  her  health  fearfully.  An  incurable  form  of  liver 


246  LITE    OP   MADAME    STNTETCHINE. 

complaint  soon  declared  itself,  and  the  mild  climate  of 
Nice  was  tried  in  vain.  In  the  month  of  March,  1829, 
Mme.  Swetchine,  as  well  as  the  elite  of  French  society 
and  letters,  was  called  to  mourn  an  irreparable  loss.  The 
Duchess  de  Duras  had  barely  entered  upon  her  fiftieth 
year. 


LIFE    OF  MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 


CHAPTER  XKL 

Revolution  of  1830.  —  New  religious  situation.  —  Correspondence  with 
the  Count  de  Montalembert  and  the  Abbe"  Lacordaire.  —  Notes  of 
Father  de  Ravignan. 


Revolution  of  July  was  a  source  of  grief  and 
J-  terror  to  Mme.  Swetchine.  Princes  whom  she  re- 
vered, and  friends  who  had  long  been  dear  to  her,  were 
banished  or  struck  down.  Liberal  institutions,  whose 
duration  she  had  desired,  and  which  she  had  fondly 
believed  compatible  with  order,  were  suddenly  launched 
upon  a  new  course,  and  subjected  to  incalculable  tests. 
Mme.  Swetchine  had  never  deceived  herself  about  any 
of  the  faults  of  the  friends  of  royalty.  She  was  no  less 
clear-sighted  and  no  less  anxious  about  the  faults  of  the 
friends  of  freedom.  Enumerating  the  alarming  symp- 
toms which  appeared  on  every  side,  she  wrote  to  the 
Countess  Edling:  — 

"  How  true  was  that  remark  of  yours,  that  we  are  witness- 
ing the  grand  judgment  of  human  pride  !  When  a  spiritual 
element  mingles  with  guilt,  it  becomes  demoniacal." 

On  the  23d  of  December,  1830,  during  the  trial  of 
Prince  de  Polignac,  she  wrote  as  follows  :  — 

"  You  have  learned  the  particulars  of  the  progress  of  events 
here  during  these  last  days,  the  issue  of  the  great  drama  in  the 
Chamber  of  Peers,  and  all  the  agitation  and  resentment  of 
which  it  has  been  the  pretext  and  occasion.  Day  before  yes- 
terday, yesterday  even,  Paris  was  like  a  city  with  an  enemy  at 
the  gates.  To-day,  calmness  and  even  cheerfulness  prevail, 
or  so  they  say  ;  and  death-cries  are  replaced  by  vivats,  which 


248  LIFE   OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

are  not  of  the  sort  to  prolong  the  life  of  any  one.  Yesterday 
you  would  have  supposed  that  every  right  had  been  outraged, 
because  four  victims  had  escaped  the  steel  of  the  assassin. 
To-day  that  hideous  delirium  appears  like  a  dream.  I  must 
say,  that,  if  I  am  never  disturbed  in  the  midst  of  universal 
alarm,  no  more  can  I  be  re-assured  by  an  improvised  security. 
The  men  remain  the  same,  the  danger  very  nearly.  One  must 
have  been  here  a  good  while  to  be  able  to  grasp  or  compre- 
hend aught  of  that  complication  of  emotions,  wills,  projects, 
and  especially  interests,  which  is  at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 
Those  throngs  of  men,  so  menacing,  so  powerful  in  numbers, 
so  incensed,  were  under  no  apparent  direction.  If  their  chance 
of  success  had  been  greater,  those  who  incited  them  would 
have  given  them  some  more  definite  object ;  but,  instead  of 
one  aim,  they  seemed  to  have  three  or  four;  and  dissension 
burst  forth  with  the  first  advantage  they  gained.  How  could  it 
be  otherwise  with  a  sovereign  people  that  recognizes  no  will 
but  its  own,  and  in  its  own  only  the  impulse  of  the  moment. 

"  The  lower  classes  aim  at  nothing  less  than  a  levelling  of 
all  ranks,  and,  to  succeed  in  this  thing,  will  renew  the  conflict 
unceasingly.  Their  power  has  now  been  revealed  to  them, 
and  they  will  pursue  their  aim.  They  still  rely  upon  legal 
methods ;  but,  if  these  do  not  insure  success,  they  will  under- 
take to  seize  it,  sword  in  hand. 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  indeterminate  than  the  results  of 
this  situation.  Everywhere  we  have  demi-wrong,  demi-usur- 
pation,  demi-loyalty,  and  demi-injustice.  It  is  the  triumph  of 
the  quasi.  The  foundations  are  so  bad,  all  is  so  tainted  with 
the  original  vice,  that,  however  good  a  thing  may  be  in  itself, 
it  requires,  first  or  last,  a  sacrifice  to  a  wrong  principle.  Ah, 
how  careful  we  ought  to  be  to  do  no  evil !  for  evil  always  re- 
turns by  a  vicious  circle,  and  re-acts  upon  itself." 

In  the  midst  of  the  protracted  agitations  which  suc- 
ceeded the  Revolution  of  July,  the  possibility  of  an  imme- 
diate return  of  the  Duke  de  Bordeaux  occurred  to  many 
minds ;  and  these  hopes  could  not  fail  to  find  an  echo  in 
the  soul  of  Mme.  Swetchine.  She  does  hot  omit  to  men- 
tion them  in  her  correspondence :  — 

"  Great  re-actions  in  favor  of  virtue,  even  if  brought  about 
by  its  enemies,  not  only  pave  the  way  for  a  genuine  restoration, 
but  also  of  themselves  assure  its  permanence.  If  there  had 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCH1XE.  249 

not  been  such,  can  you  imagine  the  return  of  the  Duke  de 
Bordeaux  in  the  present  condition  of  people  and  things  ?  Le- 
gitimacy is  a  fine  principle;  but  it  is  only  one  element  of 
order,  and  cannot  stand  alone.  I  ask  of  those  who  hearken 
only  to  their  passions,  whether  the  point  in  question  is  the 
futile  triumph  of  restoring  the  royal  child,  the  vanity  of  hav- 
ing won  a  victory,  or  rather  a  rule  which  shall  re-establish  and 
protect  society,  and  firmly  implant  those  verities  which  are 
useful  to  states,  and  conservative  of  their  true  prosperity. 
No  keener  regrets  than  mine  follow  the  unhappy  princes  into 
their  exile.  I  have  a  tender  reverence  for  the  piety  and  virtue 
of  the  King,  the  most  affectionate  and  devoted  regard  for  the 
Dauphiness ;  but,  while  I  marvel  at  the  oblivion  to  which 
the  most  enthusiastic  loyalty  often  consigns  them,  I  do  not 
think  that  so  many  misfortunes  can  be  redeemed  by  the  pueril- 
ity of  an  ephemeral  success.  I  think  we  must  learn  to  wait ; 
and  leave  it  to  God  to  take  the  initiative,  and  choose  the  mo- 
ment which  his  will  generally  indicates  to  man  by  unequivocal 
signs,  and  which  has  certainly  not  yet  arrived.  So  I  am  quite 
of  the  opinion  of  Alfred  de  Damas,  and  opposed  to  that  of  M. 

de . 

"But  let  us,  my  friend,  give  a  moment's  thought  to  one 
poor  destiny,  which  after  many  fluctuations,  wrongs,  and  re- 
verses, seems  to-day  to  be  verging  on  the  last  extremity  of 
distress:  I  speak  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand.  There  are  a 
great  many  people,  as  Mme.  de  Stae'l  says,  who  throw  their 
friends  into  the  sea  that  they  may  have  the  pleasure  of  fishing 
them  out  again.  But  pity  men  of  genius  and  stormy  natures  ; 
for  they  are  weak,  and  invariably  dragged  further  than  they 
desire.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  has  always  respected  certain 
limits :  his  conduct  in  this  emergency,  and  his  utter  abandon- 
ment by  his  party,  are  the  best  proofs  of  it ;  and,  in  the  age  in 
which  we  live,  we  may  well  respect  men  who  continue  to  re- 
spect two  or  three  things.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  might  and 
ought  to  have  been  at  ease  to-day.  He  is  almost  to  blame  for 
being  otherwise ;  but  let  us  take  the  fact  as  it  is,  cruel,  very 
cruel.  To  avoid  taking  the  oath,  he  has  renounced  his  peerage, 
and  with  the  peerage  the  pension  of  twelve  thousand  francs 
which  it  afforded  him.  Do  you  know  what  he  has  besides  ?  A 
capital  of  from  sixteen  to  twenty  thousand  francs,  still  owed 
him  bv  his  publisher.  This  sum  will  be  swallowed  up  by  debts 
and  his  journey  to  Switzerland,  or  will  perhaps  be  sufficient  to 
support  him  for  a  few  months.  And  afterwards  ?  It  is  the 
insoluble  problem  of  this  afterwards  which  I  present  to  you, 
my  dear  and  good  friend ;  and  which  will  surely  awaken  in 
you  some  concern,  and,  it  may  be,  give  rise  to  something 


250  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

more,  —  an  opinion,  a  piece  of  advice,  an  unexpected  hope 
This  is  the  thought  which  has  occurred  to  me  in  the  midst  of 
my  sorrow  and  perplexity.  If  the  Emperor  were  informed 
of  the  actual  and  indisputable  condition  of  a  man  who  is  a 
chevalier  of  his  own  order,  whom  the  Emperor  Alexander 
greatly  distinguished,  whose  ideas  are  fundamentally  monarch- 
ical, and  whose  conscience  has  remained  faithful  to  his  masters 
in  their  misfortunes,  —  if  the  Emperor's  eyes  were  to  fall  on 
such  a  man,  would  it  not  occur  to  him  to  offer  assistance  ? 
Could  the  idea  be  suggested?  I  must  tell  you,  in  the  first 
place,  that  the  thought  is  entirely  my  own,  and  has  been  im- 
parted to  no  one.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  is  so  far  a  stranger 
to  the  notion,  that,  in  case  you  should  think  it  practicable,  I 
should  beg  you  to  wait  until  I  had  sounded  him,  and  learned 
whether  such  a  favor  at  the  hands  of  a  foreign  prince  wtmld  be 
acceptable." 

This  noble  thought  did  reach  the  Emperor  Nicholas. 
His  reply  was,  that,  if  he  were  to  testify  any  interest  in 
the  French  Legitimists,  he  should  accord  his  preference 
to  the  Count  de  La  Ferronnays,  the  last  ambassador  of 
Charles  X.  to  his  own  court.  But  the  overture  was  with- 
out results  in  either  case. 

Finally,  we  have  the  means  of  forming  an  exact  idea 
of  the  state  of  Mme.  Swetchine's  opinions  at  this  epoch ; 
for  we  can  verify  it  at  the  very  moment  when  the  insur- 
rections were  apparently  quelled,  and  the  new  government 
found  itself  confronted  by  moral  difficulties  only.  The 
ministry  of  MM.  Dupont  (de  1'Eure)  and  Lafitte  had 
given  place,  on  the  llth  of  March,  1831,  to  a  coalition,  in 
which  M.  Casimir  Perier  was  President  of  the  Council, 
and  held  the  portfolio  of  the  Interior.  Count  Sebastian! 
was  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  Baron  Louis  managed  the 
finances,  and  the  Bureau  of  Public  Instruction  was  in 
the  hands  of  Count  de  Montalivet,  who  had  displayed 
intrepid  courage  during  the  trial  of  the  ministers. 

On  the  13th  of  March,  1831,  Madame  Swetchine 
wrote: — 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  251 

"  The  creation  of  the  new  ministry  re-assures  me  somewhat 
about  war,  and  gives  me  faith  in  a  respite,  at  least,  if  not  in  the 
actual  re-establishment  of  security.  The  fatigue  consequent 
on  so  much  agitation,  anxiety  for  so  many  interests,  and  the 
selection  of  honorable  and  strong  men,  —  all  these  circum- 
stances strengthen  the  chances  of  the  new  order  of  things.  If 
it  is  not  firmly  established,  it  will  be  because  it  is  manifestly 
impossible,  in  an  age  when  everybody  reasons,  for  a  govern- 
ment to  sustain  itself  by  methods  opposed  to  the  nature  of  its 
origin.  If  this  coalition  does  not  succeed,  it  will  be  because 
the  evils  of  the  situation  are  fundamental.  I  have  always 
thought  that  if,  while  everybody  here  is  behaving  well,  or  at 
least  as  well  as  possible  under  the  circumstances,  the  result 
should  be  a  political  failure,  the  moral  of  the  fable  would 
appear  in  the  most  striking  manner.  It  would  have  been  de- 
monstrated, that  the  basis  of  the  edifice  is  at  fault,  and  that 
the  defect  is  irremediable." 

The  political  situation  of  France  was  now  radically 
changed ;  the  religious  situation  no  less  so.  The  rela- 
tions of  the  Church  with  the  new  government  could  not 
be  what  they  had  been  with  the  old. 

The  natural  and  inevitable  result  of  these  rude  over- 
turns was  a  necessity  that  the  clergy  should  have  a  point 
cTappui  on  some  more  solid  ground  than  the  temporary 
favor  or  disfavor  of  the  political  authorities.  Experience 
seemed  decisive.  The  century  was  but  thirty  years  old  ; 
yet  twice  in  that  period  had  the  Church  seen  compromised 
all  which  the  world  could  give  or  take  away  from  her. 
When  the  First  Consul  had  appeared  in  the  character  of  a 
restorer  and  pacificator  of  society,  one  of  his  first  cares 
had  been  to  recall  a  banished  God,  and  restore  to  him 
his  temples.  But  presently,  like  all  men  who,  in  the 
depth  of  their  hearts,  aim  less  at  serving  religion  than  at 
being  served  by  it,  the  Consul  —  now  an  Emperor  —  sub- 
stituted compulsion  for  respect;  and  the  pomp  of  the 
coronation  was  speedily  followed  by  the  captivity  of  Fon- 
tainebleau.  This  open  violence  was  a  revelation  to  the 


252  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

clergy  of  that  day,  who  had  been  under  the  sway  of  certain 
ringleaders,  half  blinded  and  half  accomplices ;  and  when 
the  Restoration  succeeded  to  the  Empire,  and  restored 
to  the  sovereign  pontiff  the  plenitude  of  his  authority,  the 
era  of  reparation  was  hailed  with  chivalrous  and  spon- 
taneous enthusiasm. 

But  when  political  dissensions  revived,  and  parties 
seized  on  the  weapons  at  hand,  the  Church  saw  herself 
exposed  to  the  same  attacks  as  the  royal  power.  When 
the  Restoration  at  last  succumbed,  the  clergy  was  consid- 
ered vanquished,  and  treated  accordingly.  From  that 
moment,  a  common  anxiety  took  possession  of  some  emi- 
nent members  of  the  clergy,  and  a  few  laymen  profoundly 
devoted  to  the  Church.  They  asked,  with  one  voice, 
whether  the  hour  had  not  come  for  them  to  adopt  a  new 
attitude  toward  the  new  times  ;  and,  having  early  agreed 
upon  a  point  of  departure,  they  desired  to  make  an  appeal 
to  public  sentiment,  and,  for  this  purpose,  established  a 
journal  with  the  title  of  "  L'Avenir." 

"  L'Avenir"  began  by  boldly  claiming  full  and  entire  free- 
dom of  action  for  the  Church ;  no  longer  requesting  it  as 
a  favor  or  a  privilege,  but  on  the  ground  of  common  right, 
and  the  tendencies  of  the  modern  mind.  In  support  of 
this  energetic  demand,  "  L'Avenir "  professed,  with  equal 
frankness,  its  adhesion  to  the  general  principles  in  force 
in  French  society,  as  they  had  been  sanctioned  by  the 
Concordat  of  1801,  and  to  the  representative  regime 
inaugurated  by  the  return  of  the  House  of  Bourbon. 
"Destructive  force,"  said  the  Catholic  organ,  "is  but  an 
additional  calamity  when  there  is  not  a  constructive  idea 
behind  it." l  —  "  Your  greatest  glory,"  wrote  some  one  at 

i  Reply  to  M.  de  Potter,  September,  1832. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  253 

that  time  to  the  founder  of  "  L'Avenir,"  "  will  be  to  have 
spoken  of  liberty  to  the  world,  with  a  pure  heart,  and  lips 
overflowing  with  the  praise  of  God.  It  will  be  to  have 
purified  your  cause,  and  shown  it  to  posterity,  clothed  with 
a  kind  of  Christian  virginity,  yet  adorned  with  all  the 
splendor  of  the  priesthood.  You  have  restored  to  that 
cause  the  titles  of  its  divine  origin,  and  reconciled  thereto 
the  souls  which  revolted  from  the  sanguinary  worship  by 
which  it  was  profaned." 1 

The  enterprise  was  bold,  but  favored  by  all  things  with- 
in and  without.  The  most  eloquent  of  the  Christian 
apologists  of  that  epoch,  the  Abbe  de  Lamennais,  beheld 
courageous  hearts  and  eminent  minds  flocking  to  his  stand- 
ard, and  ranging  themselves  about  him  in  the  character  of 
devoted  and  ardent  disciples. 

To  deliver  the  clergy,  if  possible,  from  the  bonds  and 
the  engagements  which  had  become  so  onerous,  and  which, 
twice  in  so  short  a  time,  had  been  so  near  proving  fatal ; 
to  endeavor  to  release  their  order,  once  for  all,  from 
the  temptation  or  the  danger  of  falling  into  the  hands  of 
fortune  or  of  chance ;  to  set  before  it,  as  the  only  way 
of  salvation  for  itself  and  the  souls  of  men,  the  exclusive 
duty  of  its  evangelical  mission,  —  such  was  the  programme 
unanimously  adopted  by  the  contributors  to  u  L'Avenir." 

This  swift  movement  was,  and  remains,  one  of  the  most 
fruitful  of  our  century.  The  nature  of  the  questions 
agitated,  the  grandeur  of  talent  and  nobility  of  character 
called  forth,  acquired  for  it  an  influence,  and  have  left  a 
memory  which  is  still  a  battle-ground,  whereon  must  be 
decided  one  of  the  most  important  problems  of  human 

1  (Euvres  Posthumes  de  M.  de  Lamennais.  Correspondence,  vol.  L 
p.  91. 


254  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

destiny,  the  exact  definition,  namely,  of  the  relations  be- 
tween Church  and  State. 

In  the  last  days  of  the  Restoration,  M.  de  Quelen,  who 
was  residing  in  the  vicinity  of  Notre  Dame,  in  the  ven- 
erable palace  which  had  been  inhabited  by  the  Cardinal 
de  Noailles,  Christopher  de  Beaumont,  and  Christian  de 
Juigne,  saw  enter  his  cabinet  a  young  advocate,  who  had 
made  no  figure  at  the  bar,  and  had  been  distinguished  only 
by  the  practised  and  kindly  eyes  of  some  of  the  founders 
of  the  Societe  des  bonnes  Etudes,  MM.  Bailly,  Alexis 
de  Noailles,  and  Berryer.  M.  de  Quelen  approached 
the  young  man,  bowed,  and  said,  extending  his  hand 
affectionately,  "  You  are  most  welcome.  You  have  been 
pleading  human  causes.  You  shall  henceforth  plead  an 
eternal  cause."  This  young  man  was  M.  Lacordaire,  who 
had  come  for  the  blessing  of  the  Archbishop  before  shut- 
ting himself  up  in  a  cell  of  St.  Sulpice. 

He  had  issued  thence  an  austere  and  devout  priest ;  and 
was  offering  to  the  Church  the  first-fruits  of  his  apostolate, 
when  M.  de  Lamennais  addressed  him  in  his  turn,  repeat- 
ing, though  in  different  language,  the  appeal  of  M.  de 
Quelen. 

A  young  scion  of  French  aristocracy,  of  an  age  to 
assume  the  prerogatives  of  the  peerage,  the  Count  de 
Montalembert,  had  followed,  along  with  M.  de  Lamennais, 
the  example  of  Lacordaire ;  and  these  two,  so  far  apart  in 
origin,  so  united  in  ardor  and  devotion,  were  bound  to- 
gether by  a  close  and  indissoluble  friendship.  M.  de 
Montalembert,  who  was  an  admirer  of  Count  de  Maistre, 
had  not  been  unmindful  of  the  residence  of  Mme.  Swet- 
chine  in  Paris.  He  had  begged  for  the  honor  of  a  pre- 
sentation to  her ;  and  he  it  was  who,  in  his  turn,  had 
introduced  his  friend,  the  Abbe  Lacordaire. 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    8WETCHINE.  255 

We  may  imagine  the  earnest  and  interesting  nature  of 
their  interviews,  at  such  a  time  and  under  such  circum- 
stances. The  points  in  question  were  vital  ones  for 
Christianity ;  they  sought  to  determine  the  surest  method 
of  preserving  her  independence,  and  reconquering  or  ex- 
tending her  disinterested  empire  over  the  nations,  who 
never  need  her  so  much  as  when  they  aspire  to  do  with- 
out her.  In  Mme.  Swetchine's  presence  youth  could  inter- 
rogate experience,  and  have  no  reason  to  dread  timidity  or 
weakness.  Her  solicitude  and  apprehension  soon  became 
intense.  Every  thing  was  tending  towards  a  presumptuous 
and  disorderly  liberalism.  M.  de  Lamennais,  who  should 
have  moderated  the  excitement  of  his  friends,  frequently 
set  the  example  in  exaggeration  of  language,  and  gave 
a  handle  to  his  enemies,  by  the  misunderstandings  and 
disturbances  which  he  took  no  pains  to  dispel. 

"L'Avenir"  had  been  started  on  the  loth  of  October, 
1830.  The  opposition  it  excited  in  Paris  was  promptly 
reproduced  at  Rome,  although  under  a  milder  and  more 
temperate  form.  The  Abbe  Lacordaire  and  the  Abbe 
Gerbet  were  delegated  by  their  coadjutors  to  seek  an 
interview  with  the  papal  nuncio,  Mgr.  Lambruschini,  and 
present  him  with  a  statement  of  their  doctrines.  This 
interview  was  without  result.  MM.  de  Lamennais,  La- 
cordaire, and  de  Montalembert  then  resolved  to  suspend 
the  publication  of  "  L'Avenir,"  and  repair  to  the  sovereign 
pontiff,  Gregory  XVI.,  to  obtain  a  decision  from  him. 
They  arrived  at  Rome  on  the  31st  of  December,  1831. 

The  correspondence  of  Mme.  Swetchine  with  M.  de 
Montalembert  began  at  the  time  of  the  publication  of 
"  L'Avenir,"  and  was  kept  up  throughout  this  memorable 
journey.  This  correspondence  must  certainly  be  consid- 
ered as  one  of  the  most  touching  models  extant  of  Christian 


256  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

friendship.  It  assumes,  after  the  first  interchange  of 
words  of  confidence  and  affection,  the  most  serious  char- 
acter ;  and  we  know  not  which  of  the  two  to  admire  most, 
—  she  who  sees  the  right  so  clearly,  and  enforces  it  so 
authoritatively,  or  he  who  is  so  free  to  ask  advice,  and  to 
this  rare  merit  adds  the  rarer  one  of  permitting  the  pub- 
licity of  his  request. 

The  first  of  the  letters  here  given  is  dated  in  the  month 
of  September,  1831.  At  this  period,  "  L'Avenir"  was  not 
only  awakening  religious  susceptibilities :  it  was  equally 
inciting  to  resistance  against  the  civil  power.  It  had 
been  indicted  before  a  jury,  for  demanding  that  the  nom- 
ination of  bishops  should  be  removed  from  the  hands  of 
the  King ;  and,  shortly  after,  M.  de  Montalembert  was 
arraigned  before  the  Chamber  of  Peers,  for  having  at- 
tempted, in  concert  with  M.  de  Lamennais,  to  protest,  by 
the  opening  of  a  free  school,  against  the  imperial  decree 
which  maintained  the  monopoly  of  the  universities,  in 
defiance  of  the  charter  of  1830. 

TO   COUNT   DE   MONTALEMBERT. 

DIEPPE,  Sept.  2, 1831. 

.  .  .  Certainly  there  is  occasion  for  all  our  lamentations. 
Within  and  around  us,  we  have  great  evils  to  deplore ;  but  I 
do  not  think  that  faith  is  either  dead  or  dying.  It  seems  to  me 
that  its  position  to-day  is  precisely  that  of  science  in  past 
times ;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  withdrawn  from  the  masses,  and 
concentrated  with  all  the  more  power,  sincerity,  and  splendor 
upon  individuals.  The  actual  increase  of  light  in  what  are 
called  the  ages  of  ignorance  answered  instead  of  its  diffusion ; 
and,  if  the  real  end  of  Providence  has  always  been  to  provide 
himself  in  every  age  with  those  who  will  worship  him  in  spirit 
and  in  truth,  have  we  any  right  to  doubt  the  accomplishment 
of  that  end  to-day,  amid  such  saintly  souls,  such  tried  virtue, 
and  such  generous  efforts  ? 

I  loved  you  for  what  you  were,  before  I  knew  you ;  and 
since  then  1  have  indeed  been  identified  with  you  by  a  truly 
maternal  solicitude.  You  stand  between  your  trial  and  your 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  257 

examination  as  licentiate  of  laws, — two  eras  of  human  life 
which  should  be  lar  apart.  But  neither  success  nor  defeat  will 
greatly  move  you. 

In  the  train  of  this  letter  came  events  of  the  most  seri- 
ous nature.  The  arrival  of  M.  de  Lamennais  at  Rome 
caused  evident  disturbance.  Gregory  XVI.  was  moved, 
by  his  "clairvoyance  as  sovereign  pontiff,  by  his  natural 
inclination,  and  even  by  the  traditions  of  the  Roman 
court,  to  wish  to  save  the  Abbe  de  Lameunais.  He  en- 
deavored to  overlook  all  that  was  imperious  in  the  inter- 
rogations and  entreaties  addressed  to  him,  and  replied, 
through  the  medium  of  Cardinal  Pasca,  by  a  letter  in 
which,  while  he  indicated  some  points  of  doubtful  doc- 
trine, and  certain  proofs  which  the  Holy  See  rejected,  he 
aimed  at  avoiding  any  more  serious  measure,  and  at  exor- 
cising public  disapprobation.  The  Abbe"  Lacordaire,  beset 
by  the  saddest  apprehensions,  but  moved  yet  more  by  his 
duty  to  the  Church,  supplicated  M.  de  Lamennais,  in  the 
most  earnest  manner,  to  desist  and  withdraw.  M.  de 
Lamennais,  however,  allowed  Lacordaire  to  depart  with- 
out him,  and  persisted  in  remaining  at  Rome  and  demand- 
ing an  official  reply  from  the  head  of  Christendom. 
Unable  to  obtain  this,  he  left  Rome,  and  announced  his 
formal  intention  of  at  once  resuming  the  publication  of  his 
journal,  and  the  propagation  of  his  religious  and  political 
doctrines.  This  obstinacy  rendered  it  impossible  for 
Gregory  XVI.  to  hesitate  longer.  He  found  it  necessary 
to  search  out,  recapitulate,  and  call  attention  to,  whatever 
had  seemed  excessive  in  "  L' Avenir,"  in  the  encyclical  let- 
ter of  Aug.  15,  1832.  He  did  so  with  regret,  and  in  such 
moderate  terms,  that  a  few  years  later,  while  Gregory 
XVI.  was  still  pontiff,  and  during  the  long  struggle  be- 
tween the  French  Episcopate  and  MM.  de  Montalembert 

17 


258  LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

and  Lacordaire  respecting  freedom  of  instruction,  many 
bishops  adopted  the  general  principles  of  "  L'Avenir,"  modi- 
fied by  experience  and  a  clearer  insight  into  the  questions 
involved.  If  M.  de  Lamennais  in  1832  had  shown  him- 
self humble  and  submissive,  he  might  have  stood,  without 
a  rival,  at  the  head  of  the  Catholic  movement  of  1840, 
greater,  stronger,  more  revered,  than  ever. 

What  a  different  course  he  did  pursue,  and  how  swiftly 
it  led  him  to  ruin,  is  well  known.  "VVe  shall  get  glimpses, 
in  the  ensuing  letters,  of  the  anguish  of  heart  and  firm- 
ness of  faith  of  his  two  more  illustrious  companions. 

"L'Avenir"  had  ceased  to  exist.  Its  contributors  were 
dispersed.  The  Abbe  Lacordaire  was  ripening  in  retire- 
ment his  knowledge  and  his  powers.  M.  de  Montalem- 
bert  left  France  for  Germany,  where  were  awaiting  him, 
at  Marburg,  those  religious  experiences  which  gave  rise  to 
the  history  of  St.  Elizabeth.  Mme.  Swetchine's  corre- 
spondence recommences  in  1833. 

March  19, 1833. 

...  It  does  not  satisfy  me  that  I  am  remembered,  my  dear 
child.  I  want  some  proof  of  that  remembrance ;  and  this  is 
why  we  do  not  always  agree  about  the  length  of  the  gaps  in 
our  intercourse.  I  know  so  little  of  how  they  are  filled  for 
you,  and  how  far  your  courage  has  struggled  successfully  with 
your  sorrows.  In  such  a  state  of  uncertainty,  one  wants  to  be 
re-assured  every  moment.  If  you  would  prefer  not  to  come 
this  evening,  I  would  propose  to-morrow  evening  or  to-morrow 
morning,  just  as  your  private  mood  shall  determine.  It  is  be- 
cause I  would  combat,  that  I  will  not  contradict  it. 


Aug.  26, 1833. 

The  discouragement  of  not  being  able  to  say  what  one 
would  as  one  would,  has  always  made  it  easy  for  me  to  under- 
stand that  man  who,  when  pressed  for  an  answer  to  a  letter, 
invariably  sent  for  post-horses,  and  went  to  talk  with  his  impa- 
tient friend.  Unfortunately,  it  is  a  method  which  every  one 
cannot  adopt ;  and  he  who  should  attempt  it  in  your  case 
would  find  himself  involved  in  I  know  not  what  vagabond 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    STTETCHINE.  2">9 

courses.  If  you  only  knew  how  to  stay  where  you  are  well 
off,  one  might  be  almost  sure  of  making  some  arrangement ; 
but  your  internal  unrest  urges  you  on,  still  crying  "  Dahin! 
dahin  !  "  '  When  you  think  you  are  obeying  determinate  mo- 
tives, I  very  much  fear  that  you  are  only  yielding  to  a  vague 
instinct  of  change.  Ah,  my  God !  it  may  be  needful  that  this 
should  exhaust  itself,  but  not  to  the  extent  of  doing  you  an 
injury.  Every  sort  of  holocaust  demands  a  living  being;  and 
such  are  not  those  quenched  and  blighted  imaginations,  those 
forceless  and  unaspirant  intellects,  which  often  mistake  indiffc-r- 
ence  and  inertia  lor  the  superiority  of  reason  and  the  last 
result  of  philosophy.  Surely,  God  has  impressed  a  different 
tendency  upon  your  soul,  which  would  seem  to  have  been 
formed  under  the  inspiration  of  that  fine  word  of  Plato's, 
"The  beautiful  as  a  means  of  attaining  the  true."  It  is  the 
very  course  which  would  have  fascinated  you,  if  you  had  not 
been  thrust,  when  so  young,  so  weak,  and  so  inexperienced, 
into  the  midst  of  a  conflict  of  passions  and  interests  wholly 
alien  to  your  nature.  You  seized  only  on  the  disinterested, 
and,  so  to  speak,  poetic  side  of  these  questions :  but  all  the 
same  you  were  in  the  melee,  giving  and  receiving  blows ;  and 
even  your  utterly  pure  and  upright  intentions  could  not  pre- 
vent your  experiencing  the  unfortunate  effects  of  a  false  and 
rash  course.  And  thus,  with  a  mind  perfectly  high-toned  and 
honorable,  a  crystal  which  is  almost  a  diamond,  with  faultless 
manners,  with  faith  and  sincere  piety,  and  all  the  lofty  senti- 
ments they  involve,  you  have  neither  the  heart's  sweet  joy  nor 
its  sweet  peace :  you  are  dejected,  troubled,  dissatisfied  with 
yourself.  My  dear  Charles,  if  you  had  transgressed  no  law, 
your  heart  might  have  been  sad  and  desolate ;  but  it  would 
have  experienced  no  such  ravages.  The  reason  why  you  are 
so  ill  at  ease  is,  that  your  conscience  lies  so  near  your  heart, 
that  their  voices  and  their  troubles  are  confounded.  You  feel 
that  you  have  been  stripped  in  your  course ;  but  you  will  not 
say  that  you  must  retrace  your  steps. 


Nov.  17,  1833.2 
MY  DEAR  CHARLES, — I  know  all  about  your  accumulated 

1  "Thither!  thither!"     The  first  words  of  the  refrain  of  Mignon's 
ballad  in  Goethe's  "  Wilhelm  Meister." 

2  The  French  newspapers  published,  at  about  this  time,  a  letter  from 
Pope  Gregory  XVI.  to  Mgr.  de  Lesquen,  Bishop  of  Rennes,  which  men- 
tioned, among  other  symptoms  of  the  impending  revolt  of  M.  de  Lamen- 
nais,  the  publication  of  Mickicwitch's  "  Polish  Pilgrim,"  which  had  been 
translated  by  M.  de  Montalenibert. 


260  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

troubles ;  and  you  may  guess  how  sad  and  unceasing  is  my 
anxiety,  understanding  as  I  do  that  you  are  deeply  hurt. 
Without  having  been  as  sanguine  as  you,  I  have  followed 
•with  solicitude  your  swift  and  sudden  alternations  between 
hope  and  fear,  anticipation  and  sorrowful  surprise. 

But  what  re-assures  me  about  you,  dear  Charles,  and  gives 
me  real  confidence  in  your  destiny,  is,  that  your  mistakes, 
your  imprudences,  and  your  deviations,  have  always  been 
followed  by  trials.  You  are  not  yet  sentenced,  for  there  is 
nothing  irrevocable  about  your  sorrows  or  your  situation ;  nor 
are  you  abandoned,  for  faith  and  all  true  consolation  still  re- 
main to  you :  but  you  are  constantly  warned,  reproved,  and 
recalled  into  a  straighter  and  surer  way.  If  you  still  resisted 
these  solemn  admonitions,you  would  increase  the  guilt  of  the 
struggle  in  which  you  have  voluntarily  engaged.  Even  if  your 
faith  fails  not,  what  can  you  gain  by  delay?  Under  what 
better  auspices  could  you  come  back  to  the  truth  ?  What 
homage  and  what  sacrifice  will  you  bring  her  ?  Youth  has  this 
advantage :  there  is  indulgence  for  its  weaknesses,  and  its 
repentance  is  welcome.  But  you  must  not  forget  that  your 
youth  began  so  early,  and  was  so  prematurely  active,  that  it 
has  fewer  years  to  run  than  the  youth  of  ordinary  men. 

I  put  far  from  me  every  fear ;  but  I  also  check  the  ardor  of 
my  hopes,  which  would  demand  for  their  full  justification  so 
generous,  so  pure,  so  catholic,  an  abandonment  to  the  Father's 
guidance,  and  which  would  make  so  clearly  manifest  a  tender, 
profound,  and  unreserved  submission.  .  .  . 

I  fancy  that  I  detect  in  these  Utopian  dreams  the  heresy  of 
the  Millenarians,  who  attempted  to  naturalize  upon  the  earth  a 
happiness  reserved  for  other  spheres.  It  is  the  misplacement 
of  a  true  idea,  of  our  presentiment  of  a  blessed  immortality, 
after  sin  shall  have  been  destroyed,  and  mercy,  peace,  and  just- 
ice shall  have  free  course.  Abandon  these  vain  dreams,  dear 
child.  Quit  the  source  of  these  sudden  and  violent  excite- 
ments, which  are  fatal  even  to  talent.  Your  own  has  suffered 
from  the  excesses  by  which  your  mind  has  been  carried  away. 
It  has  suffered  by  the  conflict  between  your  intellect  and  your 
conscience.  These  two  causes  combine  to  render  the  present 
a  time  of  transition  for  your  literary  powers.  Your  intellect 
is  casting  its  skin.  Do  whatever  appears  to  you  hardest.  In 
your  present  mood,  this  will  be  your  best  course ;  and  then 
leave  your  new  wings  to  grow  and  strengthen,  before  you 
essay  a  more  noble  and  brilliant  flight. 

My  dear  Charles,  will  you  not  reward  me  by  being  all  that 
my  wishes  and  my  prayers  would  fain  have  made  you  ?  I  need 
not  say  whether  or  no  you  have  the  power  to  rejoice  or  afflict 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  261 

my  heart ;  but,  when  you  awoke  in  me  a  mother's  emotions,  I 
cannot  believe  that  you  condemned  me  to  the  sorrow  of 
Rachel. 


Dec.  11, 1833. 

You  might  well  think,  my  dear  Charles,  that  your  letter 
would  trouble  me  ;  and  yet  it  does  not  rob  me  of  all  hope.  I 
can  but  think  that  the  honesty  and  purity  of  your  soul  will 
rectify  the  sophistry  of  your  mind,  and  that  this  chimerical 
compromise  between  a  rash  resistance  and  the  submission  of 
a  pious  and  believing  heart  will  yet  appear  to  you  an  impossi- 
bility. 

Nothing  is  so  simple,  in  our  weak  and  imperfect  state,  as  to 
yield  to  exaggeration  and  error.  One  might  say,  that  nothing 
is  so  catholic  as  error ;  for  nothing  is  so  universal.  What 
really  harms  us  is  our  obstinacy,  our  haughty  and  absurd  attach- 
ment to  our  own  opinion.  My  dear  child,  can  it  be  possible? 
Will  you  sacrifice  to  this  idol  ?  No  :  you  do  not  dream  of  the 
burden  you  are  taking  on  your  shoulders,  of  the  sell-torture 
you  are  preparing,  of  the  sweet,  inward  joy  which  you  embitter, 
and  perhaps  banish  for  a  long  season.  Until  self-renunciation, 
and  a  pious,  tender,  frank  repentance,  has  expanded  your  heart, 
it  can  never  know  true  peace  or  true  comfort. 

Doubtless,  my  dear  Charles,  it  was  looking  high  to  take 
M.  de  Lamennais  for  your  model :  but  the  Christian  can  look 
higher ;  and,  for  him,  the  humblest  path  is  not  only  the  safest, 
but  the  most  sublime.  And  how  can  you  tell  how  great  an 
inlluence  a  free,  swifl,  and  truly  generous  impulse,  originating 
in  the  very  depths  of  your  heart,  might  have  on  M.  de  Lamen- 
nais ?  I  know  that  your  wishes  and  your  advice  have  long 
agreed  with  the  hopes  and  expectations  of  the  friends  of  his 
fame.  I  do  you  full  justice  in  this  respect ;  but  how  much 

greater  might  your  power  over  him  have  been,  if  you  yourself 
ad  been  what  you  ought !  I  believe  the  great  man  would 
have  yielded  to  a  pious  and  tender  child ;  for  it  seems  to  me 
that  tenderness  alone  can  conquer  M.  de  Lamennais,  and,  like 
Clorinda,  his  heart  is  weak,  though  his  arm  is  strong.  And 
what  incalculable  sorrows  you  might  have  spared  him !  for 
it  is  useless  to  deny  that  the  displeasure  and  animadversion 
which  he  excites  are  general.  The  rare  exceptions  to  this 
mood  are  furnished  by  pious  persons,  who,  in  their  love  of 
peace,  would  have  liked  that  less  publicity,  and  especially  less 
precipitation,  should  have  attended  the  commencement  of  this 
deplorable  struggle.  It  is  the  worldly  people  who  are  most 
severe  against  him  here ;  first,  because  they  consult  only  a 
rigorous  logic;  and  also,  because  they  are  not  bouud  to  M.  dc 


262  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Lamennais  by  any  gratitude  for  the  services  he  has  rendered 
them.  Neither  must  you  be  surprised,  dear  Charles,  if  you 
encounter  more  harshness  yourself  than  if  you  had  been  licen- 
tious or  impious.  This  severity  is  the  homage  rendered  to  the 
estimate  which  had  been  made  of  you,  and  the  hopes  you  had 
inspired.  It  is  also  a  result  of  the  engagements  which  you 
seemed  to  undertake.  People  are  judged  in  this  world  accord- 
ing to  the  stand  which  they  take,  and  the  responsibilities  they 
assume.  The  world  often  regulates  its  demand  by  the  praise 
it  has  bestowed ;  and  the  purer  and  loftier  your  aim  is,  the 
greater  the  tax  which  it  involves.  Your  conduct,  your  senti- 
ments, and  your  talents,  make  you  a  conspicuous  object ;  and 
this  is  why,  my  poor,  dear  St.  Sebastian,  you  are  the  mark  for 
so  many  arrows  just  now.  Men  are  demanding  of  you,  to-day, 
what  they  are  afraid  they  awarded  you  too  readily  and  too 
easily ;  but  your  noble  and  sacred  vocation  was  not  an- 
nounced and  unfolded  in  human  sight  alone.  This  concurrence 
of  painful  circumstances,  of  manifold  trials,  which  causes  me 
to  call  your  sorrow  by  the  name  of  that  multiform  demon  of 
the  gospel,  Legion,  —  has  it  not  a  voice,  and  does  it  not  say 
to  you,  that  God  is  no  longer  well  pleased  ?  My  dear  child, 
accept  tribulation ;  or,  rather,  let  us  accept  it,  but  let  us  cease 
to  deserve  it. 

How  can  you  ask  me  if  I  pray  for  you.  My  prayer  takes 
on  successively  the  forms  of  distress,  of  anxiety,  and  of  a  deep 
sense  of  weakness  and  of  need.  I  can  do  nothing  for  you,  if  I 
cannot  render  closer  and  more  inviolable  the  ties  which  unite 
you  to  God  and  his  Church.  I  have  courage  to  see  you  suffer ; 
but  I  feel  that  I  never  could  bear,  I  will  not  say  your  defection, 
but  the  indifference  with  which  you  threaten  us.  What  a 
mood  of  mind  is  that  of  which  such  thoughts  allow  us  a 
glimpse  !  Ah,  my  dear  Charles  !  if  religion  should  find  herself 
banished  from  your  thoughts,  she  would  soon  lose  all  other 
power  over  you ;  and  your  faith,  not  yet  sufficiently  tested,  or 
sufficiently  instructed  to  be  firm,  would  soon  perish  in  the  new 
world  which  your  intellect  would  create.  M.  Lacordaire, 
faithful  to  his  original  duties,  has  had  no  wish  but  to  be  a 
priest.  Why  should  you,  whose  first  inspiration  ought  to  regu- 
late your  destiny  as  well,  —  why  should  you  desire  to  be  aught 
but  a  Christian  and  a  Catholic? 

Adieu,  my  dear  Charles !  may  God  grant  you  his  blessed 
light  and  his  precious  consolations ! 

Contemporaneous  history  has  already  furnished  us  with 
the  response  of  M.  de  Montalembert  to  these  beautiful 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  2G3 

exhortations ;  but,  were  it  otherwise,  one  could  not  read 
them  without  foreseeing  their  effect.  The  man  who  can 
inspire  such  language  is  already  worthy  to  hear  it,  and 
capable  of  rising  to  its  level. 

The  Abbe  Lacordaire,  as  we  could  not  have  doubted, 
and  as  we  have  just  learned  from  Mme.  Swetchine,  was 
not  left  to  hesitate  for  a  moment  in  his  obedience.  The 
difficulties  to  be  removed  were  not  within,  but  before  him. 
The  splendor  of  his  eloquence,  and  the  marvellous  effect 
of  his  first  appearance  in  the  chapel  of  the  College  Stan- 
islas, could  not  fail  to  awaken  the  complex  emotions  which 
await  all  success.  Even  among  those  who  have  an  interest 
in  talent,  and  to  whom  it  should  be  of  service,  the  minds 
that  it  disturbs  and  irritates  must  be  counted  along  with 
those  to  which  it  gives  sincere  delight.  And,  besides  these 
universal  conditions,  it  is  necessary,  in  this  case,  to  take 
into  account  the  lingering  distrust  excited  by  the  earlier 
connection  with  M.  de  Lamennais.  These  different  shades 
of  religious  opinion  were,  of  course,  represented  in  the 
council  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  and  were  all  urged 
with  equal  vehemence  on  M.  de  Quelen.  This  prelate 
naturally  stood  at  the  exact  antipodes  of  the  Abbe  Lacor- 
daire. He  had  been  educated  in  a  political  and  religious 
clique,  with  which  the  young  orator  had  never  come  in 
contact.  M.  de  Quelen  had  only  regrets  where  M.  Lacor- 
daire had  only  hopes.  One  thing  they  had  in  common, — 
rectitude  and  true  nobility  of  heart.  If  M.  de  Quelen 
was,  by  nature,  somewhat  prejudiced  against  the  brilliant 
editor  of  "  L'Avenir,"  he  was  incapable  of  cherishing  an 
ungenerous  antipathy,  of  resisting  a  pledge  of  sincerity, 
or  of  disowning  or  despising  aught  which  might  be  of 
service  to  his  divine  Master.  And,  finally,  that  which 
might  have  escaped  his  own  observation  and  loyal  inten- 


264  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

tions,  was  supplied  by  his  profound  esteem  for  Mme.  Swet- 
chine,  and  perfect  trust  in  her. 

Mme.  Swetchine  knew  this  well;  and  her  double  at- 
tachment for  MM.  de  Quelen  and  Lacordaire  kept  her 
constant  to  the  one  purpose  of  bringing  them  together. 
"We  confine  ourselves  to  the  strict  truth,  when  we  count 
the  sermons  of  Notre  Dame  among  the  most  important 
services  which  this  true  servant  of  God  has  done  our 
country  and  our  time,  in  the  silence  of  her  modesty. 

It  is,  then,  no  matter  of  surprise,  that  the  first  fragment 
of  the  Abbe  Lacordaire's  writing,  found  among  the  papers 
of  Mme.  Swetchine,  should  be  addressed  to  M.  de  Quelen 
and  herself  jointly.  It  is  as  follows :  — 

PARIS,  Dec.  13,  1833. 

MADAME,  —  I  have  the  honor  to  send  you  a  copy  of  my  new 
declaration,  since  you  are  so  good  as  to  desire  it.  At  the 
moment  of  the  termination  of  this  serious  affair,  I  feel  deeply 
the  need  of  thanking  y"ou  for  the  good  and  affectionate  advice 
you  have  given  me,  though  I  had  not  the  slightest  claim  thereto. 
I  shall  remember  it  as  long  as  I  live.  A  portion  of  my  career 
is  now  completed ;  and  I  enter  upon  a  new  situation,  where, 
doubtless,  I  shall  encounter  external  agitations  and  varying 
fortunes  ;  for  such  is  our  lot.  But  I  have  gained  by  this  expe- 
rience a  wider  knowledge  of  my  duty,  and  a  peace  which  must 
be  lasting ;  for  it  is  the  peace  of  God.  You  appeared  to  me, 
between  two  distinct  parts  of  my  life,  as  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
may  appear  to  a  soul  wavering  between  life  and  death,  earth 
and  heaven.  But,  once  in  heaven,  we  shall  go  no  more  out. 

I  am,  madam,  respectfully,  your  most  humble  and  obedient 
servant,  H.  LACORDAIRE. 

This  letter  was  accompanied  by  the  copy  of  one  ad- 
dressed to  the  Archbishop  of  Paris. 

After  the  Stanislas  sermons,  some  months  of  suspense 
shadowed  the  destiny  of  the  orator.  He  could  not  be  left 
in  a  chapel  which  had  become  too  small  for  him ;  but  it 
was  still  considered  imprudent  to  open  to  him  a  wider 
career.  During  the  autumn  of  1834,  M.  Lacordaire  was 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  265 

walking  alone,  sad  and  submissive,  in  one  of  the  alleys  of 
the  Luxembourg,  when  he  was  accosted  by  an  ecclesiastic 
whom  he  had  never  seen  before.  "  Why  do  you  live  in 
such  idleness  ? "  demanded  this  unexpected  interlocutor. 
"  Why  do  you  not  go  and  see  M.  de  Quelen  ? "  The 
Abbe  Lacordaire  responded  only  by  a  smile,  and  continued 
his  solitary  walk.  But,  after  a  few  moments'  reflection, 
he  was  induced  to  ask  himself  the  same  question,  and 
directed  his  steps  towards  the  Convent  of  St.  Michel, 
where,  since  the  sack  of  the  Archbishop's  palace,  M.  de 
Quelen  had  occupied  a  humble  cell.  He  was  introduced 
without  difficulty,  and  found  the  Archbishop  alone.  His 
morning  had  been  spent  in  reading  a  memoir  of  the  Abbe 
Liautard,  Cure  of  Fontainebleau.  This  memoir  had  circu- 
lated in  the  diocese  of  Paris,  and  contained  some  severe 
reflections  on  the  episcopal  administration.  After  some 
trite  conversational  preliminaries,  there  ensued  a  silence 
of  a  few  moments,  during  which  M.  de  Quelen  formed  a 
sudden  resolution ;  and,  bending  on  the  young  friend  of 
Mme.  Swetchine  a  tender,  grave,  and  penetrating  gaze, 
"  I  give  you,"  said  he,  "  the  pulpit  of  Notre  Dame ;  and 
you  will  preach  your  first  sermon  in  six  weeks."  M. 
Lacordaire  recoiled  with  a  spontaneous  movement  of 
alarm.  The  Archbishop  urged  him  in  vain  ;  and  the  con- 
sent of  the  eloquent  apostle,  who  felt  his  power,  but  shrank 
from  its  responsibilities,  was  only  obtained  after  two  days 
of  prayer  and  meditation. 

His  first  discourse  at  Notre  Dame  at  once  assured  the 
fame  of  the  Abbe  Lacordaire,  and  renewed  the  hostility 
against  him.  His  pride  was  stirred,  and  his  modesty 
alarmed,  at  the  same  time.  After  two  consecutive  stations, 
in  the  winters  of  1835  and  1836,  he  renounced  the  most 
magnificent  audience  gathered  within  the  memory  of  the 


266  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

present  generation,  and  formed  the  sudden  resolution  of 
seeking  once  more  the  glorious  solitude  and  the  grand 
teachings  of  the  Eternal  City. 

The  friendship  of  Mme.  Swetchine  did  not  fail  him  in 
this  time  of  trial.  The  first  letter  of  a  long  correspondence 
reached  the  Abbe  Lacordaire  in  a  little  town  in  Burgundy, 
whither  he  had  gone  to  strengthen  and  bless  the  last 
moments  of  a  beloved  brother. 

The  second  letter  is  directed  to  Rome.  M.  de  Lamen- 
nais  had  already  published  the  "  Paroles  d'un  Croyant," 
and  was  at  that  time  preparing  a  volume  entitled  "  Les 
Affaires  de  Rome." 

TO   THE   ABBE   LACORDAIRE. 

A  Rome,  via  San  Nicolo,  presso  al  Gesu. 

PAKIS,  Oct.  31, 1836. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEXD,  — .  .  ..  I  have  not  alluded  to  the  last 
threat  of  M.  de  Lamennais,  because  I  hoped  all  the  while  we 
should  escape.  It  has  not  been  so.  Nothing  can  check  him. 
The  publication  of  his  book  is  at  hand ;  but,  saving  his  genius, 
what  can  he  say  that  has  not  been  already  said  ?  and  is  not  evil 
from  his  lips  self-limited  ?  Perhaps  I  am  wrong ;  but  I  still 
hope,  in  the  midst  of  my  sorrow,  that  this  tempest  will  pass 
over  our  heads  without  inflicting  any  serious  damage.  M.  de 
Lamennais  does  especial  harm  to  the  wavering  and  the  weak. 
He  has  beguiled  none,  but  more  than  once  he  has  broken  the 
bruised  reed  and  quenched  the  smoking  flax.  I  have  just  had 

a  long  interview  with  M. ,  whose  book  falls  far  short  of 

our  expectations.  The  void  left  by  M.  de  Lamennais  in  the 
circle  of  superior  and  pious  minds,  has  deprived  him  of  his  sup- 
port. To  think  of  having  one's  faith  and  one's  ideas  of  God 
dependent  on  those  of  any  man  !  It  is  idolatry,  without  its  ex- 
cuse. My  dear  friend,  may  you  turn  to  the  best  possible 
account  this  useful  time  and  precious  solitude  !  There  are  bet- 
ter days  in  store  for  you  yet ;  but,  for  all  that,  I  am  sure  you 
will  look  back  longingly  upon  these.  Your  studies  appear  to 
me  excellent.  Are  there  no  books  which  would  facilitate  your 
pursuits?  Tell  me  what  you  want, — what  you  want  this  very 
day,  without  troubling  yourself  to  consider  whether  you  will 
want  it  to-morrow.  I  like  well  to  be  your  man  of  business :  it 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  267 

does  not  exclude  other  relations,  and  a  true  affection  combines 
many  characters  in  one.  It  is  multiplicity  in  unity,  as  my  Ger- 
mans say. 

After  the  appearance  of  the  volume  in  which  M.  de 
Lamennais  attempted  to  gratify  his  resentment  against 
Rome,  the  Abbe  Lacordaire,  who  was  repeatedly  named 
in  that  work,  felt  called  upon  to  refute  it.  This  he  did, 
not  by  direct  polemic,  but  by  a  voluntary  apology  for  the 
Holy  See,  under  whose  shelter  he  then  was.  In  this 
second  volume,  and  in  the  "  Paroles  d'un  Croyant,"  M.  de 
Lamennais  made  his  earliest  direct  appeal,  not  merely  to 
liberal  ideas,  but  to  those  passions  and  transports  which  it 
is  the  aim  of  the  demagogue  to  excite.  It  was  at  the  very 
epoch  when  the  bleeding  wounds  of  Poland  were  directing 
general  indignation  and  entreaty  towards  the  Emperor 
Nicholas,  and  when  the  Archbishop  of  Cologne  was  de- 
fending the  freedom  of  the  Church  at  the  expense  of  his 
own  personal  liberty.  The  Abbe  Lacordaire  had  thrown 
his  apology  into  the  form  of  an  epistle,  with  the  title  of 
"  Lettre  sur  le  Saint  Siege."  In  the  preface  we  read,  — 

"  One  of  the  gravest  errors  now  propagated  concerning  the 
Holy  See  is,  that  it  is  in  alliance  with  absolute  government,  and 
that  it  looks  with  a  hostile  eye  upon  all  those  nations  whose  in- 
stitutions attempt  to  restore  the  ancient  liberties  of  Catholic 
Europe.  Rome  is  thus  made  a  partisan, — she  who  is  the  mother 
of  all  the  nations,  and  who  respects  all  the  various  forms  of 
government  which  they  have  imposed  upon  themselves,  or  which 
may  have  been  created  for  them  by  the  force  of  time  and  cir- 
cuiu.stance ;  and  this  false  accusation  necessarily  renders  her 
obnoxious  to  a  hatred  unmerited  by  the  universal  impartiality 
whose  tradition  she  so  faithfully  preserves.  One  needs  but  to 
live  at  Rome,  with  a  watchful  and  unprejudiced  mind,  to  per- 
ceive how  lofty  is  the  sphere  which  the  Church  inhabits,  and 
how  far  below  her  feet  those  earth-born  clouds  are  passing 
which  trouble  and  divide  the  individual  churches  elsewhere." 

Before  publishing  this  development  of  his  ideas,  the 
Abbe  Lacordaire  imparted  his  design  to  his  friend,  and 


268  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

begged  her  to  ask  the  opinion  of  M.  de  Que*len  on  the 
subject.  Although  this  tract,  devoted  exclusively  to  the 
defence  of  the  Holy  See,  was,  of  all  the  writings  of  M. 
Lacordaire,  the  one  which  should  have  appealed  most 
surely  to  the  sympathies  of  M.  de  Quelen,  the  thought 
which  filled  the  Abbe's  soul,  and  constantly  inspired  his 
speech  and  his  pen,  was  the  reconciliation  of  Christian 
authority  with  freedom ;  and  hence,  questions  of  expedi- 
ency, propriety,  and  shades  of  meaning,  kept  arising  at 
every  page.  Mme.  Swetchine  replied  to  the  Abbe  in  a 
first  letter,  which  has  not  been  preserved ;  and  in  the  ensu- 
ing one  we  read :  — 

PARIS,  Nor.  26, 1836. 

...  If  nothing  is  yet  decided,  I  beg  you  to  wait  for  the  first 
courier,  thus  leaving  me  time  in  the  interval  to  consult  the  Arch- 
bishop, to  •whom  I  shall  communicate  a  portion  of  your  letter 
to  the  internuncio,  whose  opinion  I  shall  also  be  glad  to  have.1 
If  any  greater  inconvenience  be  involved  in  the  initiator)'  step, 
which  you  in  your  self-devotion  are  disposed  to  take,  they  are 
most  favorably  situated  for  discovering  it.  When  things  are 
once  decided,  you  will  go  to  work  in  good  earnest ;  and  there 
is  no  reason  to  fear  that  you  are  too  late.  Besides,  the  storm 
raised  by  this  deplorable  volume  has  not  produced  any  very 
great  or  general  unsettling  of  men's  minds.  Those  who  have 
suffered  from  it  might,  of  course,  have  been  ruined  in  a  great 
many  other  ways ;  and  the  antecedents  of  M.  de  Lamennais, 
his  present  attitude,  and  the  astonishing  facility  with  which  he 
maintains  successively,  and  in  the  most  dogmatic  and  resolute 
manner,  two  or  three  absolutely  incompatible  assertions,  —  tln-.se 
things  are  in  themselves  a  powerful  antidote  to  his  book.  The 
first  part  of  it  shows  us  the  man  whom  we  had  seen  before,  and 
who,  however  censurable  his  unjust  bitterness  may  have  been, 
reminded  one  of  Dante,  in  the  respect  for  things  which  mingled 
with  his  unjust  calumnies  against  men.  So  far,  M.  de  Lamen- 

1  Mgr.  Lambruschini  had  been  promoted  to  the  cardinalship,  and  his 
place  tilled  by  a  simple  internuncio,  Mgr.  Garibaldi,  —  a  man  of  loyal, 
mild,  and  conciliatory  spirit.  M.  Garibaldi  afterwards  returned  to  Paris 
in  the  quality  of  nuncio,  and  there  died  in  the  exercise  of  his  high  func- 
tions, leaving  lasting  regrets  behind  him. 


LIFE   OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  269 

nais  preserves  his  identity  with  the  man  whom  we  knew ;  but 
the  pages  which  precede  and  follow  the  epilogue  show  him  in  an 
extremely  disagreeable  light ;  and,  if  I  dared,  I  should  confess 
that  I  see  in  them  the  hypocrisy  which  is  born  of  spite.  None 
but  an  angel  or  a  priest  can  fall  so  low.  The  so-called  justifi- 
catory parts,  on  which  he  relies  for  the  defence  of  his  own  course, 
I  found  only  accusatory.  All  these  encyclical  letters  are  but 
exponents  of  the  order,  the  duties,  and  the  virtues  which  un- 
created Wisdom  brought  down  to  earth.  Nowhere  do  they 
express  any  approbation  of  tyranny.  In  them  a  father  reminds 
his  children  that  it  belongs  to  God  to  remove  the  ills  that  weigh 
upon  them,  and  that  heaven  is  well  worth  all  the  patience  and 
submission  exercised  upon  earth.  They  give  us  a  sense  at  once 
of  sorrow  and  restraint. 


Jan.  19,  1837. 

...  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced  that  they  cannot  resist 
you,  if  prudence  and  honesty  preside  over  your  determinations. 
In  this  case,  as  in  many  others,  I  have  seen,  my  dear  friend,  that 
you  need  but  to  pause,  and  that  a  very  few  hours  suffice  to 
separate  impetuous  fancies  from  the  calmest  and  wisest  resolve. 
We  never  need  tremble,  except  for  the  interval ;  and,  thus  far, 
you  have  deserved  God's  unfailing  interposition  there.  I  come, 
then,  to  your  letter,  in  which,  under  certain  very  just  and  proper 
restrictions,  you  placed  your  manuscript  at  the  Archbishop's 
disposal.  That,  of  itself,  was  sufficient  precaution  and  guaranty. 

To  begin  at  the  beginning,  my  very  dear  friend,  things  have 
happened  on  this  wise :  On  the  arrival  of  your  manuscript,  I 
read  it  with  delight,  fancying  that  I  heard  you  speak,  and  yet 
witli  trembling  and  that  sort  of  internal  perturbation  which 
makes  one  reserve  one's  judgment  even  when  inspired  with 
confidence,  which,  in  this  case,  I  was  not.  I  found  in  your  work 
admirable  fragments,  extraordinary  beauty,  and  a  charm  which 
is  all  your  own.  The  point  of  view  which  you  adopted  is  mine 
also.  My  complete  separation  from  the  world  renders  me  really 
accessible  only  to  the  interests  of  the  Church,  whither  my  life 
has  lied  for  refuge.  I  think  that  we  owe  her  all,  and  that  she 
owes  us  only  eternal  bliss. 

The  policy  you  unfolded  seemed  to  me  that  of  the  common 
Father  of  tlie  faithful,  as  well  of  all  sects  as  of  all  nations; 
and,  generally  speaking,  my  assent  to  a  multitude  of  charming 

Eissages  was  as  complete  as  my  admiration  of  them  was  lively, 
ut  this  just  and  very  sincere  homage  does  not  prevent  me, 
my  dear  friend,  from  perceiving  that  some  parts  of  your  work 
need  revision.     Several  of  the  ideas  advanced  appeared  to  mo 


270  LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

hazardous,  and  wanting  in  that  rigorous  precision,  that  absolute 
soundness,  which  one  always  expects  of  the  priesthood.  They 
were  but  slight  blemishes,  easily  removed  ;  and,  if  you  had  been 
here,  you  would  have  perceived  them,  and  at  once  perfected 
your  work.  I  then  determined  to  consult  M.  Affre,1  of  all  your 
advisers  the  most  faithful  and  devoted  to  you.  I  talked  with 
him  unreservedly  about  your  present  position  and  future  pros- 
pects, and  found  him  equally  interested  in  both.  M.  Affre 
took  the  manuscript  with  him ;  and  I  begged  him,  after  he  had 
read  it,  to  hand  it  to  the  Archbishop,  at  the  same  time  request- 
ing an  audience  with  Monseigneur  the  next  day.  He  unfolded 
the  objections  to  the  publication  of  the  essay  which  suggested 
themselves  to  him,  —  objections  which  will  be  stated  in  lull,  and 
addressed  directly  to  you.  He  seemed  especially  struck  with 
the  fact  that  there  was  no  real  need  of  your  entering  the  lists ; 
the  moment  being  unseasonable,  and  even  inconvenient,  for  re- 
newing the  struggle  with  the  malevolence  of  vulnerable  imper- 
fections, and  exciting  fresh  clamors,  perhaps,  while  you  ran 
the  risk  of  compromising  what  is  now  secure,  —  your  present 
peace,  future  usefulness,  &c.  I  replied,  that,  notwithstanding 
the  high  importance  which  the  approval  of  Rome  would  make 
you  attach  to  the  publication  of  this  effort,  your  submissiveness 
would  renounce  it  without  a  struggle ;  that  it  was  very  evident, 
that,  if  you  had  wished  to  follow  your  own  judgment  only,  you 
would  have  addressed  the  manuscript  to  your  publisher,  instead 
of  submitting  it  through  your  friends  to  competent  authority. 
I  said  to  him,  in  short,  what  your  own  letter  has  said  very  much 
better,  and  in  a  manner  calculated  to  satisfy  him  fully.  Finally, 
1  ascertained  from  M.  Affre,  that  the  limits  you  set  to  your 
compliance  had  not  offended  him  in  the  least ;  that  he  was 
greatly  pleased  with  the  sentiments  you  expressed,  and  touched 
to  encounter  them  under  any  circumstances.  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  the  Archbishop  has  given  your  essay  all  possible 
attention,  examining  it  in  the  most  serious  and  careful  spirit. 
He  has  had  it  read  to  him  more  than  once ;  has  taken  notes, 
and  drawn  up  a  reply.  I  know  that  he  has  read  it  to  M.  Affre  ; 
and,  when  the  council  met  the  next  Monday,  he  communicated 
it  to  the  assembled  members. 

I  have  had  occasion,  at  this  time,  to  remark  M.  Affre's  de- 
voted adherence  to  you.     He  is  most  affectionate  and  tender, 


1  M.  Affre  was  at  that  time  grand-vicar  of  M.  de  Que'len.  It  is  pleas- 
ant to  recognize  here  the  same  spirit  of  self-devotion  which  was  to 
increase  with  each  new  dignity  conferred  upon  M.  Affre,  till  it  rose  to  the 
bubliine  heights  of  evangelical  heroism. 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  271 

and  avails  himself  of  every  opportunity  to  place  in  a  favorable 
light  your  rights,  and  the  chances  which  may  favor  them.  His 
kindly  interest  encounters  an  analogous  disposition  on  the  part 
of  the  Archbishop,  whose  silence  is  very  easily  interpreted, 
although  he  does  not  say  much  directly. 

The  deliberations  of  Algr.  de  Quelen  and  his  council 
resulted  in  an  adjournment ;  and  there  was  some  reason 
to  fear  that  the  "Lettre  sur  le  Saint  Siege"  would  be 
entirely  suppressed.  Mme.  Swetchine  accompanied  the 
announcement  of  this  sentence  by  the  following  letter :  — 

Jan.  21, 1837. 

.  .  .  Time  and  grace  move  quicker  for  you  than  for  other 
men ;  and  sincere  and  disinterested  affection  is  always  sure  to 
be  heard.  Last  evening,  before  making  the  final  sacrifice,  I 
reread  your  manuscript  once  more ;  at  least,  a  part  of  it.  The 
beauties  which  had  struck  me  each  time  appeared  more  remark- 
able than  ever ;  and  I  see  these  pages  of  your  writing  going 
down  in  book-form  to  posterity.  What  a  magnificent  applica- 
tion you  make  of  the  grief  of  Priam !  * 

Nothing  could  be  more  happy.  And  that  "heart  of  man 
which,  incapable  of  change,  makes  its  deep  sorrow  eternal  in 
this  world " !  And  that  admirable  picture  of  the  spiritual 
power,  its  conditions  and  effects !  A  hundred  other  ideas 
and  illustrations  appeared  to  me  equally  new  and  ingenious. 
I  recur  to  them  constantly  with  that  internal  recognition  which 
appropriates  all  that  is  revealed  to  it.  My  intention,  my  dear- 
est friend,  and,  I  may  add,  my  consolation,  was  to  retain  the 
manuscript,  for  it  is  something  to  be  able  to  keep  watch  over 
one's  treasure ;  b.ut,  having  been  assured  that  the  Archbishop 
preferred  to  have  it  returned,  and  his  right  appearing  to  me 
the  more  indefeasible  in  that  you  had  submitted  the  fate  of  the 

i  Speaking  of  a  biief  address  by  Pope  Gregory  XVI.  to  the  Polish 
bishops,  M.  Lacordaire  says:  "  Even  supposing  (which  I  do  not  believe), 
that,  in  the  hope  of  appeasing  a  prince  who  was  irritated  against  a  portion 
of  his  flock,  the  pastor  expressed  himself  too  strongly,  I  shall  never  feel 
that  Priam  did  any  thing  unworthy  the  majesty  of  a  king  and  the  feel- 
ings of  a  father,  when  he  took  the  hand  of  Achilles,  and  uttered  these 
sublime  words:  'Judge  of  the  depth  of  my  misery,  when  I  kiss  the  hand 
that  has  slain  my  son.'  "  —  Lettre  sur  le  Saint  Sttge,  p  627,  8vo.  edit. 


272  LIFE    OF  MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

paper  to  him,  I  entered  like  you,  and  with  you,  upon  the  path 
of  sacrifice,  and  sent  it  to  him  this  morning.  M.  Afire  has 
shown  himself  very  much  your  friend  on  this  occasion, — a  friend 
who  esteems,  admires,  and  loves  you.  Though  he  shares  cer- 
tain judgments,  and  makes  certain  concessions,  and  believes 
some  change  to  be  desirable,  I  see  that  he  is  convinced  that 
just  now  the  paper  could  not  fail  to  have  an  excellent  ellet-t 
upon  a  considerable  portion  of  the  youthful  public,  which  is 
eager  for  your  words.  Doubtless  one  of  the  two  camps  has 
been  ravaged :  but  the  point  is  to  present  an  unbroken  front  to 
the  enemy  ;  and  it  is  needful,  not  to  exorcise,  —  that  is  impossi- 
ble,—  but  to  check  and  allow  no  foothold  to  the  malevolence 
•which  is  ever  on  the  watch. 

M.  X begged  me  to  tell  you  that  a  new  attack  would 

be  made  upon  you  in  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks.  He  insisted, 
and  I  obey ;  but  it  is  with  great  repugnance  that  I  give  you 
this  warning.  Only  God  and  conscience  should  come  between 
a  man  and  his  idea ;  and  this  idea  he  must  develop,  and  perfect 
as  far  as  may  be,  out  of  a  pure  love  of  truth,  and  with  no  regard 
to  the  attacks  of  malice,  which  is  always  prolific.  My  poor, 
dear,  amiable  friend,  how  can  you  excite  such  a  sentiment  in 
the  heart,  I  will  not  say  of  any  Christian,  but  of  any  man  ? 
Contradiction  has  been  foretold,  and  the  prophecy  is  peculiarly 
applicable  at  the  height  at  which  you  stand.  Your  letter, 
threatening  a  long  absence,  is  of  course  much  in  my  thoughts. 
You  tell  me  to  think  and  pray  over  it.  I  do  nothing  else ; 
still  I  am  not  at  all  infected  by  your  convictions.  I  grant  that 
solitude  may  be  good,  useful,  perhaps  necessary,  for  you,  —  a 
solitude  which  should  bring  peace,  freedom,  and  self-possession 
in  its  train  ;  but  1  do  not  approve  of  isolation,  which  would  take 
away  your  supports  as  well  as  your  barriers,  cause  you  to  lose 
the  precious  habit  of  contact  with  your  fellow-men  (precious  for 
those  who  are  to  live  with  and  for  them),  and  leave  your  imagi- 
nation unchecked  by  the  warnings  of  friendly  sympathy,  as  well 
as  those  of  severe  reason.  In  all  places,  and  under  all  circum- 
stances, the  divine  word,  "  It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone," 
is  applicable.  You  know,  in  your  noble  humility,  that  you  can 
learn  much  from  others  ;  but  when  you  shall  have  become,  once 
for  all,  a  master  yourself,  by  the  addition  of  age  and  experience 
to  your  rare  gifts,  even  then,  my  dear  friend,  it  will  not  be  well 
for  you  to  live  apart.  Whatever  you  do,  you  need  disciples 
under  your  immediate  influence,  intrusted  to  your  care  by  the 
highest  authority,  or  else  to  be  one  of  a  family  of  brethren 
witli  a  common  lather  at  their  head.  My  ardent  desire  for  your 
perfection  has  assumed  no  definite  shape.  Do  what  you  will, 
only  serve  God !  The  world,  solitude,  preaching,  writing, 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  273 

church  dignities,  or  utter  renunciation,  —  all  these  things  ap- 
pear to  me  to  suit  you,  and  oiler  you  rare  chances  for  useful- 
ness ;  every  thing,  in  fact,  except  that  retreat,  where,  though 
you  would  be  isolated  from  all  others,  I  should  apprehend  the 
greatest  danger  from  the  impossibility  of  your  escaping  your- 
self. 


Jan.  24,  1837. 

...  I  see,  my  dear  child,  that  you  do  not  yet  know  me  as  I 
am.  You  may  grieve  and  disquiet  me  by  the  precipitation,  and 
possibly  the  thoughtlessness,  of  your  first  movements ;  but  I 
shall  not  enfeoff  you  to  anybody.  Mistakes,  and  even  faults, 
would  not  alienate  me  from  you.  The  nearer  we  come  to  God, 
the  less  confidence  we  feel  in  the  wisdom  and  utility  of  our  own 
personal  views,  while  we  come  to  have  more  and  more  respect 
for  the  very  will  which  we  had  sought  to  influence  for  the  good 
of  the  individual.  I  cannot  doubt  that  your  soul,  so  impetuous, 
so  lolly,  so  pure,  so  mobile,  so  simple,  so  beautiful,  is  the  object 
of  divine  love.  Providence  may  subject  you  to  severe  trials, 
but  can  never  abandon  you,  —  never.  It  would  have  made  me 
happy  always  to  approve  your  course,  but  that  is  not  necessary 
to  my  affection ;  and  perhaps  the  strong  shocks  to  which  you 
subject  it,  renew  with  increased  intensity  my  first  adoption. 
And  you  could  think  that  the  ascendency  which  you  allowed  me 
to  exercise  over  you,  enhanced  for  me  the  pleasure  of  our  con- 
nection !  My  dear  friend,  nothing  could  be  farther  from  the 
truth.  If  I  have  sometimes  accepted  the  fact  of  that  influence, 
it  has  been  without  confidence  in  myself,  and  only  to  prevent 
the  ascendency  of  another.  I  acted  as  your  ballast,  or  rather 
I  held  you  by  the  skirts  of  your  garment,  to  slacken  your  too 
swift  and  impetuous  movements.  Perhaps  these  are  the  very 
attributes  with  which  you  would  have  done  well  to  invest  some 
one  at  Rome,  —  some  one  who  might  have  united  the  two  con- 
ditions which  I  fulfilled  so  perfectly  :  first,  that  of  not  being  you, 
either  in  natural  disposition,  antecedents,  or  age ;  and  second, 
and  more  essential,  that  of  loving  you  better  than  you  could 
possibly  love  yourself. 

To  complete  this  picture  of  truly  Christian  thought  and 
manners,  we  need  the  figure  of  Father  de  Ravignan. 
During  the  interval  before  the  young  exile,  who  soon 
became  a  novice  in  the  Convent  de  la  Minerve,  responded 
to  the  wishes  of  Mme.  Svvetchine,  by  the  "  History  of  Saint 

18 


274  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

Dominic,"  the  "  Restoration  of  the  Dominicans  in  France," 
and  the  renewal  of  his  preaching  with  ever-increasing 
brilliancy  and  effect,  Mgr.  de  Que"len  had  been  unwilling 
to  leave  vacant  the  pulpit  of  Notre  Dame ;  and  Father  de 
Ravignan  had  carried  on  the  work  there  commenced  in  a 
different  manner,  but  with  equal  success.  This  pious  and 
fervent  apostle  had  also  felt  the  need  of  intimate  commu- 
nion with  Mme.  Swetchine,  and  had  obtained  an  introduc- 
tion to  her  through  their  common  friend,  Father  Rosaven. 
Mme.  Swetchine  hastened  to  welcome  him.  The  affection 
which  she  felt  for  Father  Lacordaire  would  have  been  an 
additional  reason  for  her  eagerness,  even  if  every  impulse 
of  sympathy  and  veneration  had  not  tended  that  way. 
Father  de  Ravignan,  on  his  part,  highly  valued  a  hearer 
like  Mme.  Swetchiue,  and  wrote  to  her  as  follows :  — 

Saturday,  11. 

MADAME,  —  I  send  you  a  little  card,  with  your  name  and 
mine.  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  take  it  with  you,  and  show  it 
when  you  come  to  the  places  reserved  for  my  family,  at  the  right 
of  the  church-warden's  pew,  facing  the  pulpit  ? 

Our  good  Eleuthere  '  says  that  you  are  very  much  afraid  of 
me.  Can  it  be  possible?  I  would  so  gladly  have  you  for  rny 
guide  and  teacher,  to  check  and  chide  and  pray  for  me  ! 

X.  DE  RAVIGNAN. 

We  find  the  name  of  Father  Lacordaire  affectionately 
and  respectfully  mentioned  by  Father  de  Ravignan  in 
several  of  the  billets  which  Mme.  Swetchine  has  preserved. 
In  one  we  read :  — 

"  Father  Lacordaire's  opinion  is  precious  to  me.  I  believe, 
with  him,  that  good  will  result  from  this  crisis ;  but  will  it  be 
only  good  ?  " 


i  The  AbW  Eleuthere  de  Girardin,  grandson  of  the  Marquis  de  Girar- 
din,  of  Ermenonville. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  275 

And  in  another :  — 

"Father  Lacordaire  has  replied  by  a  very  friendly  letter. 
You  know  that  I  sincerely  value  his  friendship  and  confidence. 
I  wish  I  might  deserve  them." 

At  about  the  same  date,  Mme.  Swetchine  wrote  the  fol- 
lowing words  in  one  of  her  own  note-books.  They  re- 
vive at  one  stroke  the  face,  so  austere  and  yet  so  sweet,  of 
the  illustrious  religieux:  — 

"  '  M.  Laine"  was  the  orator  of  the  eyes.  He  moved  and 
convinced  by  his  very  silence.'  This  remark  of  M.  de  Lamar- 
tine  about  M.  Laine  applies  equally  to  Father  Ravignan." 

Finally  she  wrote  to  M.  Lacordaire,  — 

April  18, 1837. 

You  will  find  people  here  as  kindly  and  affectionately  dis- 
posed towards  you  as  ever.  The  Archbishop  has  always  loved 
you  ;  and  the  slightest  advance  on  your  part  will  call  forth  un- 
deniable proofs  of  his  affection.  Allow  for  the  passage  of  time, 
and  leave  for  God's  handwriting  that  page  with  its  obliterated 
record,  —  a  true  palimpsest,  where  one  mav  restore  at  will  either 
one  of  two  texts.  I  heard  Father  de  Ravignan  the  last  time  he 
spoke,  and  admired  him  very  much.  His  discourse  struck  me 
as  carefully  and  finely  arranged  ;  and  the  very  grandeur  of  the 
ideas  he  reviewed,  made  his  language  seem  new  and  rich.  His 
emotion  was  spontaneous  and  genuine,  and  he  took  his  stand 
on  the  high  ground  of  authority.  One  is  conscious,  indeed,  of  a 
slight  affectation  of  manner,  and  man  is  never  master  where  he 
imitates ;  but  still  it  is  a  kind  of  hon-.age  rendered  you,  and  a 
very  touching  proof,  in  my  opinion,  of  that  love  and  zeal  for 
the  truth,  which  induces  him  to  try,  in  the  hope  of  insuring  an 
all-important  success,  all  possible  expedients,  even  those  which 
contradict  his  nature,  and  are  least  flattering  to  his  self-love. 
A  Christian  orator  is  truly  a  gift  of  God ;  but,  when  Father  de 
Ravignao  assumes  this  beautiful  office,  does  he  deprive  another 
of  it?  Is  there  not  room  for  two?  and,  notwithstanding  all  the 
suffrages  he  obtains,  are  there  not  many  needs  unsatisfied, 
many  expectations  which,  thus  far,  have  been  disappointed  ? 
One  of  the  most  grievous  things  in  this  world  is  the  narrowness 
of  absolute  praise  or  blame.  "  The  envious  poverty  of  an  ex- 
clusive love "  is  universally  applicable ;  and  M.  Sainte  Beuve 
spoke  the  truth  even  as  regards  preachers. 


276  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Death  of  the  Countess  de  Se"gur  d'Aguesseau.  —  Death  of  Prince  Garga- 
rin.  —  Letter  of  Mme.  Swetchine  on  the  occasion  of  a  severe  order  of 
the  Emperor  Nicholas.  —  Mme.  Swetchine's  last  visit  to  Russia. — 
Consecration  of  her  chapel.  —  Her  piety.  —  Her  charity. 

"  A  FTER  grace,  that  which  gives  most  efficacy  to  pious 
-£^_  words  is  the  holiness  of  him  who  utters  them." 
This  idea  of  Mme.  Swetchine's  is  applicable  to  herself, 
like  many  more  of  hers,  in  which  assuredly  no  thought  of 
self  mingled.  We  have  just  seen  what  language  she  held 
with  her  friends.  The  most  trifling  acts  of  her  life  ap- 
pealed to  them  no  less  eloquently ;  and  it  is  important  to 
establish  this,  that  the  twofold  blessing  of  her  teaching  and 
her  example  may  survive  her,  and  perpetuate  that  marvel- 
lous harmony  of  goodness,  which,  when  once  seen,  can 
never  more  be  denied  or  declared  unattainable.  Mme. 
Swetchine  lived  simultaneously,  and  with  as  much  sim- 
plicity as  energy,  the  most  fervent  spiritual  life  and  the 
most  active  worldly  one  ;  and  worldly  people  should  learn 
from  her  example  how  much  more  compatible  than  they 
suppose  are  the  duties  of  their  existence  with  those  of 
fervent  piety  ;  while  those  who  are  naturally  inclined  to 
consider  the  life  of  faith  as  a  mere  barren  contemplation, 
may  see  how  it  is  possible  to  reconcile  the  most  perfect 
domestic  devotion  with  all  the  cares  of  friendship  and  all 
intellectual  activity. 

A  wound,  all  the  more  cruel  that  she  would  fain  have 
concealed  it,  was  inflicted  upon  Mme.  Swetchine  in  the 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  277 

course  of  the  year  1834.  Either  as  a  result  of  obstinate, 
and  as  yet  ungratified,  malice  against  General  Swetchine, 
or  out  of  jealousy  of  the  favor  which  allowed  him  and  his 
wife  to  reside  in  France  when  the  Emperor  Nicholas  had 
forbidden  Paris  to  his  subjects,  Mme.  Swetchine  was  rudely 
surprised,  not  merely  by  the  recall  of  her  husband,  but  by 
a  severe  sentence  of  exile,  which  confined  General  Swet- 
chine to  any  obscure  part  of  Russia  he  might  select,  pro- 
vided it  was  at  a  distance  from  St.  Petersburg  or  Moscow. 
The  order  assumed  the  form  of  a  sentence,  and  was  based 
upon  certain  intangible  grievances,  borrowed,  after  a  lapse 
of  more  than  thirty  years,  from  his  administration  under 
the  Emperor  Paul.  It  was  in  the  depth  of  winter. 

Mme.  Swetchine  did  not,  for  an  instant,  dream  of  evading 
the  decree.  She  had  always  resisted  the  advice  of  friends, 
who  urged  her  to  realize  her  fortune,  and  transport  it  to 
France  beyond  the  reach  of  any  arbitrary  measure.  "  I 
shall  never  consent  to  this,"  she  would  say :  "  I  wish  to 
leave  my  heritage  intact  to  my  sister  and  her  children ; 
but,  if  there  was  not  one  of  them  left  in  the  world,  I  could 
not  break  the  last  tie  which  binds  me  to  my  country,  — 
forsake  the  peasants  whom  God  has  confided  to  my  care, 
and  strengthen  in  the  Emperor's  mind  the  fatal  prejudice 
which  makes  him  suppose,  that,  in  becoming  a  Catholic, 
one  ceases  to  be  a  Russian."  This  sentiment  was  put  to  a 
cruel  test.  It  dictated  these  words :  — 

TO  MME.    .    .    . 

PARIS,  Jan.  12. 

I  feel,  my  good  and  dear  friend,  that  you  need  to  be  com- 
forted for  our  misfortunes.  Re-assure  yourself,  I  can  no  longer 
be  unhappy,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the  word,  with  all 
this  cortet/e  of  torments,  private  irritations,  and  consuming 
regrets,  which  the  heart's  revolt  drags  in  its  train.  If  I  could 
say  as  much  for  my  poor  husband,  1  should  be  wretched  indeed, 
but  calm,  and  in  a  measure  comforted.  But  his  suppressed  grief, 


278  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

so  often  betrayed  by  his  sad  and  heart-rending  expression  of 
countenance ;  the  convulsive  tears  which  the  suddenness,  the 
difficulties,  and  the  dangers  of  a  long  and  painful  pilgrimage  to 
an  unknown  goal  sometimes  wring  from  him,  —  actually  drive  me 
to  despair.  I  had  great  difficulty  in  making  myself  understood, 
when  I  told  him  the  fatal  tidings.  He  persisted  in  believing 
there  was  some  mistake.  It  was  not  until  I  assured  him  that 
the  order  was  issued  two  months  ago,  and  that  your  friendship 
concealed  it  with  a  delusive  hope,  —  not  until  then,  did  the  truth 
come  home  to  him.  There  was  one  hour,  in  particular,  during 
the  first  day,  one  hour  when  he  was  away,  that  I  was  a  prey  to 
terrors  more  agonizing  than  any  other  earthly  torture.  Ordi- 
narily, his  gentle,  amiable  nature  prevails.  He  is  perfectly 
patient,  only  absent-minded,  absorbed :  you  can  see  that  his 
thought  is  fixed  like  his  suffering.  He  had  a  momentary 
desire  to  combat  my  unalterable  determination  to  follow  him 
everywhere ;  but  then  he  accepted  it,  and  I  may  be  permitted  to 
say  he  owed  so  much  to  my  character  and  my  unfailing  devotion 
to  him.  I  know  that  both  our  lives  are  at  stake,  and  that,  at  best, 
this  step  can  hardly  fail  to  shorten  our  remaining  days  ;  but  that 
is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  obey  implicitly,  and  perhaps 
it  is  not  a  sufficient  reason  for  great  urgency,  or  the  renewal 
of  more  earnest  petitions.  In  the  age  in  which  we  live,  the 
course  we  are  to  pursue  must  be  traced  by  principle ;  and  it 
must  be  steady,  sure,  and  invariable.  It  is  by  profoundly 
enjoying  all  the  favors  which  a  good  God  has  bestowed  upon 
me  here  that  I  have  learned  how  to  relinquish  them.  I  leel 
that  I  am  prepared  for  the  sacrifice.  I  have  no  doubt  or  un- 
easiness about  the  power  of  Providence  to  make  good  to  me 
the  blessings  he  withdraws,  or  to  restore  whatever  is  needful. 
We  are  under  his  eye  everywhere,  and  there  is  no  exile  for 
those  who  love  and  trust  him. 

Thus  far,  the  thing  has  not  been  noised  abroad,  and  I  ear- 
nestly desire  that  this  should  be  deferred  as  long  as  possible. 
I  do  not  wish,  and  I  never  will  allow,  the  interest  which  may 
be  expressed  for  me  to  take  the  form  of  those  complaints  in 
which  surprise  at  so  great  severity  and  indirect  blame  play 
almost  as  large  a  part  as  compassion.  I  will  not  forget  in  my 
wretchedness  that  I  am  a  Russian,  in  the  midst  of  France.  God 
knows  if  I  have  ever  forgotten  it,  or  if  a  murmur,  or  a  com- 
plaint, orjjxgna criticism,  of  my  sovereign  has  escaped  me.  I 
can  lift  upmy^nead,  and  say  this  with  a  clear  conscience. 
Under  present  circumstances,  I  am  more  than  ever  desirous 
that  no  word  or  deed  of  mine  should  belie  my  real  feelings. 
In  the  spirit  of  my  religion  I  find  a  double  motive  for  obedience. 
My  submission  has  no  clement  of  servility;  it  is  free,  like  all 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  279 

that  springs  from  the  conscience ;  it  is  not  even  a  yoke 
of  necessity ;  and  I  say  it,  dear  friend,  without  presumption, 
without  boasting,  and  without  ill-humor,  I  would  neglect  no 
means  which  might  obtain  of  the  Emperor  the  favor  of  remain- 
ing here.  But,  whatever  he  commands,  he  shall  find  in  us 
submissive  subjects,  faithful,  and  full  of  reverence  for  a  will 
wherein  they  read  the  will  of  Heaven.  The  letter  which  my  j 
husband  has  written  to  the  Emperor  only  ventures  to  implore  a  ' 
delay  until  spring.  If  we  do  not  obtain  this,  we  shall  start 
immediately.  The  eloquence  of  this  letter  consists  in  the  state- 
ment of  my  husband's  utter  want  of  fortune,  in  the  mention  of 
his  seventy-six  years,  in  the  strict  truth  of  what  he  says  about 
my  own  greatly  disordered  and  enfeebled  health,  and  in  our 
unalterable  resolution  to  obey. 

The  order  forbidding  my  husband  the  two  capitals  is  a 
strange  exception  to  the  identity  of  the  punishment  inflicted 
(I  believe)  upon  him  and  upon  the  abettors  of  the  odious  con- 
spiracy of  1825 ;  though  my  husband  was  animated  by  senti- 
ments very  unlike  theirs,  and  apparently  known  to  be  so,  since 

the  famous  Count ,  in  a  moment  of  frankness,  went  so  far  as 

to  say  that  he  did  not  oppose  his  disgrace  with  Paul  1.,  for  the 
sole  reason  that  his  presence  would  have  thwarted  them  in 
the  noble  end  they  were  pursuing.  This  is  one  of  those 
avowals  which  are  balm  to  the  wounds  of  an  honorable  man, 
and  whose  memory  is  ennobling  in  the  midst  of  humiliation. 
I  am  sure  you  will  recognize  in  this  letter  the  accent  of 
truth,  unless,  indeed,  I  have  neglected  some  of  the  little  for- 
malities which  escape  people  who  have  been  long  away  from 
court. 

Mrae.  Svvetchine  here  enters  into  some  retrospective 
details  without  interest  for  the  reader,  and  then  adds,  — 

Our  furniture,  my  pictures  and  books,  none  of  these  things 
can  be  transported  eight  hundred  leagues  by  people  who  are 
travelling  at  random  (so  to  speak),  and  feel  too  old,  too  sad, 
and  too  discouraged,  to  think  of  an  establishment.  After  the 
execution  of  this  sentence,  we  can  no  longer  hope  to  do  more 
than  live  from  day  to  day,  and  pitch  our  tent  until  such  time 
as  it  shall  be  folded  into  a  shroud.  We  may  be  very  destitute, 
but  I  feel  sure  that  we  shall  not  want  for  any  thing.  When 
one  is  unhappy,  one  needs  so  little !  Adieu,  my  very  dear 
friend  !  If  your  anxiety  for  me  is  constant,  my  prayers  for  you, 
while  I  live,  shall  also  be  unceasing.  Each  one  pays  his  debts 
as  best  he  can. 


280  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

The  friends  of  Mme.  Swetchine  at  Si.  Petersburg  did 
not  rest  satisfied  with  their  first  steps.  Using  the  argument 
of  her  beautiful  resignation,  they  obtained,  in  the  first  place, 
a  reprieve,  of  which  Mme.  Swetchine  resolved  to  avail 
herself  to  quit  France,  cross  Europe  alone,  and  go  and 
plead  her  cause  in  person  with  the  Emperor  himself. 

She  set  out  on  the  13th  of  August,  1834,  and  arrived  at 
St.  Petersburg  on  the  19th  of  September.  Not  until  the 
16th  of  November  was  the  end  of  her  courageous  efforts 
attained.  Her  health,  which  was  terribly  shaken,  did  not 
permit  her  to  leave  Russia  till  the  month  of  February ;  and 
she  suffered  cruelly  in  her  journey  across  the  North  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  trying  weather.  She  re-entered  Paris 
at  six  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  March,  the 
first  day  of  Lent,  in  1835 ;  ordered  her  little  caleche 
to  stop  at  the  door  of  the  Chapel  of  Saint  Vincent  de 
Paul,  Rue  Montholon,  rendered  thanks  to  God,  and 
received  the  ashes  there ;  and  at  last  regained  her  beloved 
asylum  in  the  Rue  St.  Dominique,  to  sink  down  ex- 
hausted under  an  attack  of  acute  disease,  which  held  her 
for  three  months  suspended  between  life  and  death.  She 
had  almost  a  year  of  inexpressible  anguish  ;  but  those  who 
approached  her  saw  no  ruffling  of  her  serenity,  no  change 
in  her  temper  or  her  mind.  To  the  world  at  large,  she 
seemed  to  have  undertaken  a  needless  journey ;  and  she  let 
them  accuse  her  in  peace  of  having  chosen  a  romantic 
method  of  soliciting  a  favor  which  the  slightest  word  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  obtain. 

The  year  1836  was  marked  for  Mme.  Swetchine  by 
two  heavy  strokes,  which  fell  upon  her  in  rapid  succession, 
—  the  death  of  her  adopted  daughter,  the  Countess  of  Segur 
d'Aguesseau,  and  the  death  of  her  brother-in-law,  Prince 
Gargarin. 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  281 

Threatened  from  her  childhood  with  a  cruel  malady, 
Mme.  de  Segur  had  resisted  it  by  dint  of  courage  and  the 
most  tender  care,  only  to  be  cut  off  in  the  flower  of  her 
youth,  after  giving  birth  to  two  children.  In  the  little 
southern  town  of  Cahors,  General  Swetchine,  who  was 
hastening  to  join  the  Countess  de  Segur  at  the  waters  of  the 
Pyrenees,  was  met  by  the  tidings  of  the  irreparable  mis- 
fortune. Mme.  Swetchine  made  haste  to  quit  Vichy  with- 
out completing  the  annual  cure  which  had  become,  as  it 
were,  necessary  to  her  existence.  She  consecrated  herself, 
as  was  her  custom,  to  the  sorrows  by  which  she  was 
surrounded,  without  further  thought  of  her  personal 
sufferings. 

"  We  encounter  in  lingering  maladies,"  she  wrote  to  the 
Countess  Edling,  "  the  very  thing  which  constitutes  the  poig- 
nancy of  sudden  death  :  we  are  taken  unprepared.  We  reckon 
on  time,  for  the  very  reason  that  it  has  lasted  so  long ;  and 
getting  used  to  a  condition  is  almost  equivalent  to  being  igno- 
rant of  it.  I  shall  finish  the  autumn  at  Tours  with  my  hus- 
band. My  constant  thought  is  to  soften  the  sorrow  of  his 
grievously  tried  old  age.  I  see  that  he  grows  fonder  of  my 
care,  and  his  goodness  and  perfect  sweetness  are  a  part  of  his 
great  courage." 

Prince  Gargarin  died  in  the  winter  of  1837.  He  had 
exchanged,  in  1834,  the  embassy  of  Rome  for  that  of 
Munich ;  but  the  change  of  climate  soon  impaired  his 
health,  and  he  died  in  the  arms  of  the  Princess  Gargarin, 
surrounded  by  their  five  sons,  the  eldest  of  whom  was 
attached  to  his  father's  embassy,  and  just  entering  upon  his 
diplomatic  career. 

"  My  sister,"  wrote  Mme.  Swetchine,  "  whom  a  secret  pre- 
sentiment forbade  me  to  detain,  and  whom  I  saw  depart  when 
the  roads  were  in  a  fearful  condition,  arrived  only  to  be 
mortally  shocked  by  the  ravages  disease  had  already  made  ;  and, 
six  weeks  later,  poor  Gargarin,  still  so  full  of  spirit  and  of  will, 


282  "LIFE  OF  MADAME  STVETCHINE. 

ceased  to  live.  This  affliction  opens  before  my  sister  a  great 
gulf  of  perplexities  and  sorrows.  The  Emperor  has  been  very 
good  to  her;  and  her  return  to  Russia,  where  she  is  to  take  her 
children,  is  all  arranged,  and  will  soon  take  place.  Various 
residences  arc  proposed  to  her,  —  Karkof,  Moscow,  Odessa. 
The  latter  arrangement  would  take  her  near  you,  and  that 
would  be  its  good  side  ;  but  I  have  objections  to  it.  The  point 
is  to  naturalize  the  children  who  were  born  abroad,  and  I  do 
not  think  Odessa  sufficiently  Russian  for  the  purpose.  Moscow 
would  afford  her,  at  least  as  far  as  country  and  family  are  con- 
cerned, the  shelter  and  protection  which  were  withdrawn  with 
her  husband." 

The  residence  at  Moscow  was  finally  chosen  by  the 
Princess  Gargarin  ;  and  we  must  henceforth  count,  among 
the  sorrows  of  Mme.  Swetchine,  the  separation  of  the  two 
sisters,  aggravated  by  so  great  a  distance  and  such  heavy 
responsibilities. 

All  these  trials  turned  the  soul  of  Mme.  Swetchine  more 
and  more  toward  God.  The  religious  part  of  her  life 
assumed  a  regularity  and  austerity,  which  the  greater 
part,  even  of  those  who  saw  her  constantly,  never  sus- 
pected. 

She  had  obtained  from  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  per- 
mission to  erect  a  chapel  in  her  house ;  and,  when  she 
returned  from  her  trying  Russian  journey,  she  desired  to 
decorate  this  sanctuary  in  a  manner  more  in  keeping  with 
her  sense  of  gratitude.  She  therefore  consecrated  a  multi- 
tude of  precious  stones  from  the  mines  in  Russia.  The 
cipher  of  diamonds  which  she  had  worn  as  maid  of  honor 
to  the  Empress  Mary  adorned  the  pedestal  of  a  silver 
statue  of  the  Holy  Virgin. 

These  arrangements  necessitated  a  second  consecration. 
Mgr.  de  Quelen,  who  had  already  blessed  the  chapel  once, 
and  himself  administered  the  holy -sacrament  there,  was 
quite  willing  to  consecrate  for  the  second  time  these  walls 
and  this  tabernacle,  the  objects  of  so  pious  a  worship.  He 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  283 

said  mass  there  for  the  first  time  on  the  15th  of  December, 
1835,  assisted  by  the  Abbe  Lacordaire,  who  was  just 
beginning  his  sermons  at  Notre  Dame. 

Notwithstanding  this  privilege  and  these  indulgences, 
Mme.  Swetchine  continued  an  exemplary  parishioner  of 
St.  Thomas  Aquinas.  It  was  a  rare  thing  for  her  not  to 
go  to  early  mass.  She  allowed  Herself  mass  in  her  own 
chapel,  besides,  on  the  days  and  hours  which  suited  the 
friends  with  whom  she  celebrated  their  sad  or  happy  an- 
niversaries. Often,  too,  were  gathered  there  as  many  as 
the  small  space  would  hold  to  listen  to  an  appeal  in  behalf 
of  some  good  work  or  new  foundation.  At  the  time  of  the 
revival  at  Solemse,  and  the  establishment  of  the  Benedic- 
tines, for  whom  Mme.  Swetchine  manifested  as  much  soli- 
citude as  generosity,  Dom  Gueranger  was  heard  there 
repeatedly,  as  well  as  Father  Lacordaire  and  Father 
Ravignan.  The  Abbe  Dupanloup,  the  Abbe  Bautain,  the 
Abbe  de  La  Bouillerie,  and  Father  Gratry  considered  it 
an  honor  to  perform  service  and  preach  in  her  chapel. 
Men  who  had  received  in  her  presence  the  first  inspira- 
tion of  grace  and  truth,  such  as  Father  Schouvalof  and 
Father  Gargarin,  testified  their  gratitude  by  their  partiality 
for  her  chapel.  Young  girls  who  had  grown  up  under  her 
eyes  desired  to  place  under  her  auspices  the  celebration  of 
their  marriage  ;  and  last,  but  not  least,  new  converts,  and 
those  who  were  returning  to  Catholicism,  but  who  still 
dreaded  the  light  of  open  day,  came  to  this  little  chapel, 
which  to  all  the  wealth  of  modern  art  added  almost  the 
mystery  of  the  catacombs,  to  beg  for  consecration  and 
secrecy. 

None  of  her  sorrows  or  of  her  Christian  joys  found  any 
echo  in  the  salon  of  Mine.  Swetchine,  who  dreaded  above 
all  things  any  appearance  of  vanity  or  ostentation  about 


284  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

her  pious  practices.  Sometimes,  in  the  midst  of  an  ani- 
mated conversation,  an  interlocutor  rose  in  silence,  and 
exchanged  an  imperceptible  sign  with  Mme.  Swetchine, 
who  drew  from  her  pocket  a  key,  and  handed  it  to  her 
without  pausing.  It  was  the  key  of  the  chapel,  where 
some  old  friend  or  some  new  acquaintance,  whose  nature 
had  been  revealed  to  het  by  a  great  grief  or  a  great  sacri- 
fice, desired  to  retire  for  prayer  and  meditation. 

Whenever  Mme.  Swetchine  herself  had  a  moment's  rest 
and  freedom,  this  was  her  refuge ;  and  traces  are  found,  here 
and  there  among  her  remains,  of  the  joys  she  tasted 
there. 

MEDITATION. 

The  concentration  of  thought  upon  self,  that  other  tabernacle 
of  God,  implies  the  weakening  of  all  external  influences,  if 
not  entire  deliverance  from  them.  The  movements  of  those 
who  are  not  weighted  by  human  attachments  and  servitudes 
are  all  prompt  and  rapid :  our  prayers  bear  the  stamp  of  that 
moral  freedom  which  renders  us  more  supple  and  agile  to  fly 
whither  God  calls  us. 

Meditation  is  at  once  the  greatest  aid  to  faithfulness  and  its 
greatest  joy,  constantly  renewing  the  cause  of  it ;  and  through 
meditation  faithfulness  takes  possession  of  its  treasure.  Medi- 
tation is  the  concentration  of  all  our  thoughts  and  all  our 
powers  on  one  point.  It  renders  all  verities  present  at  once, 
and  all  their  consequences  plain.  Meditate,  says  the  Master 
to  the  Christian  disciple,  and  evil  will  seem  less  possible,  and 
good  more  easy. 

Spiritual  drought,  when  it  is  not  the  saint's  most  fearful  trial, 
is  almost  always  the  result  of  abandoning  mind  and  soul  to 
a  sort  of  heedlessness  and  dulness.  The  will  which  is  wide- 
spread, but  not  deep,  cannot  defend  itself  from  attack ;  but 
meditation  re-unites  all  that  levity  disperses.  The  microscope 
gives  us  a  world,  a  universe,  in  a  single  drop  of  dew.  So  also 
there  is  a  world  in  a  single  instant  of  simple,  profound,  earnest 
meditation. 

PRAYER. 

Prayer  is  the  infinite !  A  single  heart  that  lifts  itself  to 
thee,  O  Lord  !  comprehends  all  hearts.  Prayer  is  eternity,  for 
it  embraces  all  time ;  immensity,  for  it  comprehends  all  space. 


LIFE   OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  285 

All  which  is,  O  my  God !  and  all  which  has  been,  all  men  of  all 
climes  and  ages,  their  present  and  future  state,  their  happiness, 
their  love,  their  virtue,  —  all  this  infinity  of  hearts  and  souls  is 
ivllccted  in  the  humble,  fervent  prayer,  as  the  celestial  vault 
is  reflected  in  the  unconscious  wave  of  the  tiniest  stream. 

TO   JESUS,   GOD  AND  MAN. 

Blessed  Jesus !  God  and  man  at  once !  oh,  may  these  two 
natures  of  thine,  united  and  yet  distinct,  render  us  doubly  the 
objects  of  thy  pity !  As  God,  forget  our  offences;  as  man, 
remember  our  woes.  As  God,  attract  and  lift  us  to  thyself 
unceasingly ;  as  man,  retrace  with  us  the  rough  paths  of 
thy  exile,  and  be  the  companion  of  our  good  and  our  evil 
days.  O  Jesus !  pardon  as  a  master,  and  compassionate  as  a 
friend ! 

There  can  be  no  progress  in  the  Christian  life  without 
constant  self-examination.  Doubtless  it  may  enervate  and 
mislead  some  weak  and  ill-regulated  minds ;  but  there  is 
no  simple  and  upright  soul  that  it  will  not  purify  and 
strengthen.  Mme.  Swetchine  was  as  remarkable  for  the 
delicacy  of  her  scruples,  as  for  the  energy  of  her  faith. 
Searchings  of  heart  occupied  as  large  a  space  with  her  as 
transports  of  prayer ;  and  so  greatly  did  she  dread  to  see 
this  habitual  labor  becoming  transient  and  fruitless,  that 
she  fixed  it  in  writing,  as  she  did  every  thing  that  engaged 
her  serious  attention.  Here  are  some  fragments  which 
chanced  to  escape  destruction  :  — 

"I  said,  in  writing  of  some  letters  that  I  was  quoting,  'a 
letter  which  I  have  this  moment  received  ; '  whereas  I  received 
it  two  or  three  days  ago.  Inaccuracy  is  never  excusable  ;  and 
this  arose  from  the  fact  that  it  seemed  to  render  my  quotation 
more  natural.  To  bend  truth  to  one's  caprices  or  one's  neces- 
sities is  a  fault,  however  limited  its  range. 

"Two  painful  and  seemingly  accidental  circumstances  have 
led  me  to  new  discoveries  and  reflections  about  myself.  The 
lamp  in  my  chapel,  before  the  holy  sacrament,  went  out  on 
the  Saturday  night  before  Palm  Sunday;  and  that  same  Palm 
Sunday  I  forgot  to  exchange  my  Prayer-book  for  that  of  the 
Passion  and  Easter  service,  and  so,  when  I  went  to  church,  I 
could  not  follow  the  office. 


286  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"  Now,  first  for  the  lamp.  If  I  am  ardent  and  vigilant  about 
any  thing  in  this  world,  it  is  the  holy  sacrament.  I  have  suf- 
fered incalculably  from  apprehension,  anxiety,  and  terror,  lest 
I  should  offend  the  majesty  of  my  beloved  Guest,  the  God  of 
love.  How  many  times  my  feeble  heart  has  well-nigh  burst 
with  throbs  of  love  and  awe !  But  here,  as  ever,  it  was  the 
victim  of  its  own  improvidence.  My  sentiments  are  those  of  a 
loving  heart;  my  actions,  those  of  an  unthinking  mind.  Thus, 
I  have  replenished  my  lamp  a  hundred  times  when  it  needed  it 
less  than  then,  and  on  that  day  the  idea  that  it  might  go  out 
crossed  my  mind ;  but  I  was  in  that  mood  when  we  are  dis- 
posed to  accuse  ourselves  of  exaggeration.  I  told  myself,  what 
any  one  would  have  told  me,  that  the  lamp  would  last  over 
night ;  and,  when  I  found  it  extinguished,  my  heart  was  wrung 
with  a  sorrow  not  free  from  remorse.  My  fault  in  all  this  is  the 
vagueness,  and  oftentimes  the  sluggishness,  of  the  workings  of 
my  mind.  There  is  more  here  than  the  mere  incident.  I  have 
indulged  myself  too  much  in  a  kind  of  lulling  of  heart  and  will 
very  unfavorable  to  the  completion  of  an  action,  and  its  ac- 
complishment while  it  can  be  of  use.  I  act  thus  where  I  love 
best.  Hinderances  and  sufferings  have  helped  to  form  the 
habit.  But  it  is  more  than  ever  necessary  that  soul  should  rule 
my  being ;  and,  since  the  internal  strife  is  over,  all  my  moral 
force  must  be  concentrated  upon  prompt  obedience. 

"  The  incident  of  the  forgotten  book  is  also  a  test  and  a  tri- 
fling punishment.  If  I  had  said  on  Saturday  evening  the  office 
for  the  eve  of  Palm  Sunday,  I  must  needs  have  had  the  book ; 
and  if,  in  the  morning,  my  mind  had  been  dwelling  upon  the 
special  significance  of  the  day,  I  should  have  been  reminded  of 
my  neglect.  Ah,  how  few  are  innocent !  If  I  studied  more 
carefully  in  all  their  consequences  the  things  which  I  regard  as 
important,  I  should  reap  better  fruit." 

The  following  fragment,  jotted  down,  like  the  others, 
without  any  date  or  mark  whatever,  at  the  eiid  of  a  list  of 
commissions,  refers  undoubtedly  to  the  announcement  of  the 
sentence  which  caused  her  departure  for  Russia :  — 

"  On  that  terrible  day,  before  the  hour  of  the  expected  visit,  I 
retired  into  my  chapel,  and  recited  among  my  prayers  my  little 
office  of  the  crucifix,  praying  with  unusual  fervor  and  under  a 
very  peculiar  impression,  so  much  so  that  I  paused  on  my  way 
out,  and,  turning  back  into  my  tabernacle  with  an  ineffable  im- 
pulse of  love,  I  said,  '  O  my  God !  I  never  prayed  like  this 
before  ! '  One  hour  later,  I  was  in  the  depths  of  despair ;  but, 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  287 

in  the  midst  of  my  chaotic  anguish,  my  thoughts  recurred  to 
that  ravishing  prayer ;  and  I  said  to  myself,  '  It  was  the  viati- 
cum of  sorrow.'" 

A  feeling  like  this  could  not  fail  to  engender  charity. 
Mme.  Swetchine  considered  the  two  inseparable ;  and  we 
will  hear  her  explain  her  views  on  this  subject  to  a  man 
singularly  fitted  to  understand  her,  —  M.  de  Melun. 

When  he  first  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Mme.  Swet- 
chine, he  was  still  hesitating  between  his  studies  of  the 
past,  which  he  proposed  to  incorporate  into  a  history  of 
the  Council  of  Trent,  and  that  charitable  vocation,  of  which, 
fortunately  for  the  world,  he  soon  made  choice.  In  1836, 
he  was  reading,  simultaneously,  Fra  Paolo  Sarpi  and 
the  life  of  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul ;  and  Mme.  Swetchine 
wrote  thus :  — 

TO  THE  VISCOUNT  DE  MELUN. 

PARIS,  July  15, 1836. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  specialty.  It  is  highly 
esteemed  in  our  day,  and  thought  to  be  of  exceeding  utility ; 
but  I  doubt  whether  God  loves  it  in  his  saints,  and  whether 
virtue  of  his  forming  has  not  universality  for  its  primary 
characteristic.  Thus,  in  that  history  of  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul 
which  impresses  you  so  much,  the  world  sees  only  the  outward 
acts,  and,  in  an  emergency,  would  deny  the  existence  of  the 
flame  which  fed  them.  It  is  this  very  thing  which  has  caused 
them  to  find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  so  many  persons  who  see  only 
the  utilitarian  side  of  charity.  Of  course,  charity  ought  to  be 
the  most  natural  manifestation  of  faith ;  but  the  effect  is  not 
greater  than  the  cause,  and  certainly  cannot  dispense  with  it. 
To  believe  intellectually,  and  to  live  upon  the  reasons  we  have 
for  believing,  is  to  render  homage  to  God.  To  relieve  the 
poor  is  to  do  him  personal  service.  To  love  him  as  he  would 
be  loved  is  a  very  different  thing.  The  swifter  the  tlight  of 
the  intelligence,  the  more  powerful  the  thought,  the  greater  the 
growth  of  the  mind,  the  more  need  there  is  that  the  growth  of 
piety  should  keep  pace  with  and  counterbalance  it.  \Vhy  have 
so  many  sublime  spirits  gone  astray  ?  It  is  because,  with  some 
degree  of  integrity  and  less  pride  than  is  commonly  supposed, 
they  did  not  love,  and  love  only  could  have  guided  them. 


288  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

And  leaving  the  realm  of  intellect,  if  we  come  to  that  of  action, 
useful,  charitable,  and  even  holy  in  its  aim,  we  shall  see,  that, 
unless  piety  lead  the  way,  it  will  not  lone  preserve  the  desired 
perfection.  The  function  of  action  is  to  break  up,  divide,  and 
as  it  were  materialize  the  attention.  Read,  then,  my  dear  friend, 
Saint  Vincent  de  Paul,  who,  with  his  miraculous  conquests,  lias 
always  appeared  to  me  like  a  kind  of  Christian  Sesostris.  Read 
him,  that  you  may  make  his  deeds  your  own,  and  conform  in  all 
respects  to  his  example.  But  read  besides  some  other  books 
about  the  great  masters  of  spiritual  life,  which  will  give  you  an 
insight  into  the  adorable  mysteries  of  God1s  dealings  with  souls. 
Among  the  poor  and  rich  alike  you  will  find  this  practical  in- 
struction very  useful.  You  have  not  much  of  the  old  man  to 
shake  off;  it  is  the  new  man  who  must  be  born  and  guided 
aright. 

It  is  but  strict  justice  to  say,  that  the  whole  life  of  Mme. 
Swetchine  was  inspired  by  the  sentiments  she  expresses 
here.  Her  charity  was  not  a  careless  and  mechanical 
practice.  She  consecrated  to  it  all  her  strength  and  all 
her  skill. 

A  confidential  servant,  who  was  with  her  all  the  last 
thirty  years  of  her  life,  and  whose  affecting  devotion  re- 
mains intimately  associated  with  his  mistress's  memory, 
penned,  after  her  death,  the  following  artless  lines,  whose 
very  naivete  augments  their  interest  and  their  charm :  — 

I  should  have  liked,  monsieur,  if  my  health  had  not  been  so 
bad,  to  furnish  you  with  some  notes  on  the  last  years  of  her 
whom  I  had  the  honor  to  serve.  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the 
more  I  am  convinced  the  dear  lady  shortened  her  days  by  her 
desire  to  serve  her  kind  in  all  ranks  of  life,  and  by  making  her- 
self the  slave  of  all.  Here  is  a  proof  of  it :  — 

One  morning,  when  I  was  serving  her  breakfast  after  her 
return  from  mass,  she  said  to  me,  "lam  in  a  great  hurry.  I 
have  a  great  deal  of  writing  to  do,  and  am  very  much  behind- 
hand. I  shall  close  my  door  to  everybody  without  exception. 
I  beg,"  she  repeated,  "  that  you  will  admit  no  one."  But, 
when  she  rose  from  the  table,  she  added,  with  a  smile,  "How- 
ever, if  anybody  comes  who  absolutely  needs  to  speak  to  me, 
and  especially  if  there  are  any  poor  people  who  have  come  from 
a  distance  and  have  no  time  to  call  again,  you  must  announce 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  289 

them."  A  moment  after  she  entered  the  drawing-room,  she 
came  back  to  say,  "I  had  quite  forgotten  that  Mine,  such  a 
one  wanted  to  see  me  alone."  Half  an  hour  later  came  two  or 
three  letters  soliciting  private  interviews ;  then  a  person  from 
the  country,  who  stopped  as  she  passed,  and  begged  to  see  her 
just  one  minute  ;  but  the  minute  lasted  till  some  one  else  came. 
Then,  at  three  or  four  o'clock,  her  doors  were  opened  to  every- 
body, and  they  came  in  crowds  to  stay  till  seven.  I  saw  her 
seat  herself  at  table,  worn  out  with  the  fatigues  of  the  day  ;  and 
people  were  even  then  coming  to  speak  with  her  before  her 
soiree  commenced.  She  used  often  to  rise  from  the  table  before 
she  had  finished  her  dinner.  This  would  last  from  six  o'clock 
in  the  morning  till  an  hour,  and  sometimes  two  hours,  after 
midnight.  To  be  sure,  she  lived  in  the  midst  of  friends  who 
loved  and  admired  her;  but  they  never  could  see  that  her 
strength  was  wearing  out,  especially  in  the  last  five  or  six 
years.  Ah,  monsieur,  everybody  was  delighted  to  see  and 
hear  her ;  for  I  do  not  think  any  one  can  deny  that  her  conver- 
sation was  charming.  She  had  a  talent  which  very  few  people 
possess, — a  different  language  for  every  class  she  met.  She 
knew  so  well  how  to  console  the  poor  in  their  misery,  —  the  sick 
in  their  domestic  trials  ;  to  raise  the  spirits  of  the  sorrowing ; 
and  to  sustain  mothers  who  came  to  ask  advice  about  their 
children.  Those  who  went  to  her  for  comfort  I  used  to  see  come 
out  from  her  presence  with  peace  in  their  faces. 

If  these  few  lines,  monsieur,  can  be  of  any  service  to  you, 
I  shall  be  most  happy  to  have  given  proof 'of  all  my  gratitude 
to  my  benefactress,  so  deeply  regretted  by  me  and  mine. 

CLOPPET. 


This  kindness  to  the  poor,  attested  by  the  irrefragable 
testimony  of  Mme.  Swetchine's  most  trifling  actions,  was 
not  confined  to  waiting  for  and  welcoming  them.  Her 
greatest  treat  was  to  visit  them  at  their  homes.  Alms- 
giving was  not,  with  her,  the  mere  fulfilment  of  a  duty. 
She  liked  to  give  pleasure  besides  doing  good,  and  her 
heart  always  added  something  to  what  her  hand  gave. 
There  is  no  one  who  does  not  need  some  trifling  super- 
fluity. When  Mme.  Swetchine  wanted  to  plan  a  diversion 
or  a  pleasure  for  a  poor  person,  it  was  done  with  the  same 

19 


290  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

care  and  precision  that  she  displayed  in  the  loftiest  efforts 
of  her  intelligence.  For  some  she  would  bring  a  few  pots 
of  flowers  ;  for  others,  framed  engravings,  recalling  favorite 
subjects,  —  battles,  for  example,  if  there  happened  to  be  an 
old  soldier  in  the  family.  For  one  she  selected  books ; 
for  another,  some  convenient  piece  of  furniture ;  for  the 
infirm,  a  good  roomy  arm-chair.  One  New-year's  Day 
she  quietly  withdrew  from  all  the  attention  by  which  she 
was  surrounded,  and  went  to  pass  several  hours  with 
some  poor  parents  who  had  just  lost  two  sons  in  rapid 
succession. 

She  had  adopted,  as  the  principal  centre  of  her  charities, 
the  quarter  of  the  Gros  Caillou,  without  explaining  to  any 
one  why  she  gave  it  the  preference.  The  venerable  cure 
of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  the  Abbe  Serres,  was  questioned 
on  this  subject,  and  replied :  "  I  cannot  say ;  but  all  I 
know  of  her  inclines  me  to  believe  that  it  was  only  be- 
cause she  had  a  better  chance  of  remaining  unknown 
there.  In  our  own  faubourg,  St.  Germain,  her  name 
would  soon  have  been  known.  It  would  have  passed 
from  porters'  lodges  to  antechambers,  and  from  ante- 
chambers to  drawing-rooms.  It  would  have  been  matter 
of  common  conversation.  She  would  have  got  a  reputa- 
tion for  charity,  and  that  is  what  she  did  not  want." 

Whenever  a  great  joy  awoke  in  the  depths  of  her  heart 
renewed  feelings  of  gratitude  to  God,  Mme.  Swetchine 
used  to  hasten  to  the  Sisters  of  the  Gros  Caillou,  and  beg 
for  another  pauper,  receive  him  from  their  hands  without 
expressing  any  preference  or  personal  choice,  and  often 
gave  him  a  name  which  recalled  to  her  the  circumstances  of 
the  adoption.  One  day,  when,  after  a  protracted  season 
of  anxiety,  she  had  received  a  letter  from  the  Princess 
Gargarin,  she  sent  Cloppet  to  the  Sisters  of  the  Gros 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  291 

Caillou ;  and  when  he  came  back,  and  stated  the  result  of 
his  characteristic  mission,  Mme.  Swetchine  exclaimed,  joy- 
ously, "  My  dear  Cloppet,  we  will  call  this  one  '  Ma  Soeur.' " 
She  sent  the  same  message  on  the  day  when  the  French 
and  Russian  war  closed  above  the  ruins  of  Sebastopol ;  and 
to  the  poor  family  which  fell  to  her  lot  she  gave  the  name 
of  "La  Paix."1 

What  Mme.  Swetchine  could  do  in  the  way  of  private 
charity  did  not  satisfy  her.  She  felt  the  need  of  associat- 
ing her  benevolence  with  the  might  of  collective  work. 
The  Convent  of  the  Madeline,  founded  by  the  Abbe*  Des- 
jardins  for  the  assistance  of  poor  young  girls,  was  in  debt 
during  the  last  years  of  the  holy  priest's  life.  Mme. 
Swetchine  came  to  his  assistance  ;  and,  after  the  death  of 
the  Abbe  Desjardins,  contributed  perseveringly  for  the 
completion  of  the  foundation.  A  converted  English  lady 
had  devoted  herself  to  teaching  in  the  Convent  of  St. 
Michel.  Mme.  Swetchine  was  intimately  associated  with 
her  for  twenty  years,  and  lavished  upon  her  encourage- 
ment and  assistance.  She  engaged  in  several  charitable 
works  set  on  foot,  or  prosecuted,  under  the  Restoration. 
But  the  vigilance  and  assiduity  which  she  brought  to  all 
undertakings  inspired  her  with  the  desire  of  a  more  ex- 
clusive consecration;  and  Mme.  Swetchine  devoted  herself, 
with  especial  affection,  to  alleviating  the  condition  of  the 
deaf  and  dumb.  Her  overflowing  heart  was  keenly  sensi- 

1  The  anecdote  of  "  Ma  Soeur  "  and  "  La  Paix  "  was  published  in  an 
eloquent  obituary  article;  and  its  author  will  pardon  me  for  pointing  out, 
in  this  place,  a  slight  error,  which  is  not  without  interest,  as  il1  list  rat  ing 
her  character.  However  unimportant  these  charitable  deeds,  they  wre 
not  made  known,  as  the  author  of  the  obituary  intimates,  by  Mme.  Swet- 
chiiKi's  mentioning  them  to  one  of  her  friends.  She  admitted  no  one  to 
this  kind  of  confidence.  Facts  of  this  sort  were  divulged  only  by  servants 
after  her  death. 


292  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

ble   of  the   sadness,   and   even   danger,  of  the   isolation 
inevitably  consequent  on  this  cruel  infirmity. 

In  1827,  the  administrative  council,  which  was  then 
intrusted  with  a  general  oversight  of  the  institution  for 
deaf  mutes,  created,  on  the  motion  of  M.  de  Gerando,  two 
committees  of  patronage, — one  of  men  for  the  boys,  the 
other  of  women  for  the  girls.  To  these  committees  was 
assigned  the  care  of  providing  protectors  for  the  pupils, 
when  they  came  out  of  the  state  institution.  Mme. 
Swetchine  was  the  first  president  of  the  ladies'  committee. 
Her  inquiring  mind,  so  curious  about  all  new  methods, 
could  not  fail  to  be  kindled,  as  she  beheld  that  marvel- 
lous communication  of  soul  with  soul,  and  the  blessed 
knowledge  of  God  imparted  without  the  hitherto  indis- 
pensable aid  of  speech.  That  miracle  of  the  healing  of 
the  deaf  mute,  constantly  renewed  and  perpetuated,  thanks 
to  the  charity  of  a  priest  of  Jesus  Christ,  touched  a  heart 
so  profoundly  tender  towards  all  the  sorrows,  and  happy 
in  all  the  consolations,  of  others.  From  that  day,  Mme. 
Swetchine  was  won  to  the  cause  of  the  deaf  mute.  Mile. 
Mechin,  who  deserved  the  title  of  mother  to  these  poor 
children,  was  employed  by  Mme.  Swetchine ;  but  she  liked 
to  refer  the  honor  to  Baron  Hyde  de  Neuville,  who  was  no 
less  devoted  to  the  work  than  herself.  The  directors  had 
thought  it  proper  to  reserve  one  of  the  finest  rooms  in  the 
asylum  for  the  meetings  of  the  committee.  Mme.  Swet- 
chine, as  president,  proposed  to  use  this  room  for  an 
infirmary,  and  transferred  the  meetings  to  the  small  cham- 
ber of  the  directress.  In  1830,  she  felt  it  to  be  her  duty 
to  retire  from  the  presidency,  that  she  might  not  attract 
attention  to  her  name,  at  the  moment  when  her  compatriots 
were  being  recalled  to  Russia  ;  but  she  preserved  the  same 
tender  interest  in  the  numerous  family  of  her  adoption. 


LIFE    OP  MADAME    SWETCHINE.  293 

She  was  thoughtful  of  the  recreation  of  these  poor  chil- 
dren ;  and  being  desirous  of  brightening,  for  a  brief 
interval,  their  doubly  precluded  imaginations,  she  ex- 
hausted the  resources  of  splendid  breakfasts,  and  all  the 
games  which  could  be  introduced  into  the  house.  One 
day,  she  had  a  fancy  to  take  them  herself  to  the  diorama, 
and  the  spectacle  of  their  profound  astonishment  and  can- 
did admiration  made  this  one  of  the  brightest  fete-days 
«he  ever  enjoyed.1  In  1829,  she  had  recommended  to 
Mine,  de  Montcalm  a  young  deaf  mute,  who  supported 
a  widowed  mother  by  her  own  unassisted  labor.  The 
noble  sister  of  the  Duke  de  Richelieu  afforded  them  abun- 
dant aid ;  but  when,  in  1832,  the  cholera  marked  her  as 
one  of  its  first  victims,  Mme.  Swetchine  reclaimed  what 
she  called  the  legacy  of  Mme.  de  Montcalm. 

A  situation  was  procured  for  the  infirm  mother ;  and  the 
young  girl,  whose  name  was  Parisse,  Mme.  Swetchine  re- 
ceived into  her  own  house.  She  adopted  the  habit  of 
taking  the  young  mute  with  her  on  her  morning  rounds, 
and  fbund  it  singularly  pleasant.  It  was  not  necessary  to 
speak  to  her,  and  she  did  not  feel  humiliated  by  silence. 
"  With  Parisse,  I  can  fancy  myself  alone,"  said  Mme. 
Swetchine,  when  any  one  expressed  surprise  at  her  sin- 
gular choice  of  a  companion ;  "  and  yet,  in  case  of  need,  I 
have  an  arm  to  lean  upon,  and  affectionate  assistance  at 
hand,  which  does  not  interfere  with  my  freedom."  Thus, 

1  It  is  needless  to  describe  the  gratitude  of  Mine.  Swetchine,  when, 
deferring  to  a  wish  repeatedly  expressed,  Mgr.  Sibour  instituted  a  regular 
religious  service  for  all  the  deaf  mutes  scattered  about  in  different  parts 
of  1'aris.  The  Church  of  St.  Koque,  where  the  Abbe  L'Ept!e  had  been 
buried,  was  declared  their  parish;  and  instruction  was  given  there  every 
Sunday,  in  the  language  of  signs,  to  a  sadly  numerous  crowd,  whose 
eyes  reflected  with  singular  brightness  the  vivacity  of  their  impressions. 
Mme.  Swetchine  was  present  at  the  first  inauguratory  mass,  which  was 
celebrated  by  Mgr.  Sibour  in  person. 


294  LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

she  always  tried  to  make  it  appear  that  she  was  the  person 
obliged  rather  than  the  benefactress. 

Every  one  knows  the  clashing  which  cannot  fail  to  occur 
where  servants  are  numerous.  The  misunderstandings 
arising  from  the  difficulty  of  mutual  comprehension  ren- 
dered the  jars  uncommonly  frequent  in  this  case.  Mme. 
Swetchine  was  often  obliged  to  interfere,  and  insist  upon  an 
indulgence,  which  her  example  alone  could  not  enforce. 
"  I  love  you  all,"  she  used  to  say  to  her  people ;  "  but  un- 
derstand, you  would  all  go  before  Parisse.  She  is  the 
most  unfortunate,  and  much  must  be  forgiven  her." 

And  here  again  Mme.  Swetchine  furnishes  a  precious 
model  for  us  to  study.  It  is  a  rare  thing  to  know  how  to 
keep  the  mean  between  cold  indifference  and  the  kindness 
that  degenerates  into  weakness.  In  Mme.  Swetchine, 
even  compassion  was  invested  with  that  perfect  fairness 
and  good  sense  which  seemed  inseparable  from  her 
nature.  Parisse  had  sterling  qualities,  which  won  the 
esteem  and  love  of  her  fellow-men ;  but  her  very  virtue, 
like  her  gait  and  her  style  of  beauty,  was  a  little  haughty. 
When  she  had  deserved  severity,  when  she  had  assumed 
what  Mme.  Swetchine  laughingly  called  her  "grand  air 
of  an  outraged  queen,"  her  patient  mistress  appealed  to 
one  of  the  patrons  of  Parisse,  Mile.  Ferment,  a  teacher 
in  the  institution  for  deaf  mutes,  who  possessed  the  secret 
of  making  herself  loved,  as  well  as  the  art  of  making  her- 
self understood.  This  common  anxiety  for  an  obscure 
unfortunate  led  to  a  correspondence,  of  which  we  present 
some  fragments,  —  a  correspondence  insignificant  in  itself, 
but  which  ceases  to  be  so  when  we  realize  its  moral  value, 
and  reflect  that  these  notes  were  penned  at  stolen  moments, 
in  the  midst  of  all  the  conflicting  thoughts  and  interests  of 
a  life  like  Mme.  Swetchine's. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  29"> 

PARIS. 

MY  DEAR  MLLE.  FERMENT, — It  was  impossible  for  me  to 
send  Parisse  to  you  at  the  appointed  time.  I  only  reached 
home  at  half-past  eleven,  and  we  are  perishing  with  cold. 
I  beg  you  to  tell  Parisse  to  have  confidence  in  me.  Her  new 
room  will  be  at  least  as  pretty  as  the  old,  if  she  will  only  leave 
me  time  to  arrange  it.  What  I  want  is,  that  she  should  cease 
to  grieve  over  the  matter,  rather  than  hide  her  grief.  I  do 
assure  you,  that  the  bare  idea  of  giving  her  pain  gives  me  a 
great  deal,  and  makes  me  feel  very  ill  at  ease. 

The  trouble  I  give  you  does  not  console  me  for  my  own, 
as  you  can  readily  believe ;  and  I  should  prefer  a  different 
sort  of  interchange. 

My  dearest,  you  are  my  only  help.  Your  goodness  will 
have  it  so,  and  I  am  compelled  to  impose  upon  it.  I  must  beg 
of  you,  then,  to  reprove  Parisse  seriously;  for  she  is  beginning 
quite  to  forget  herself.  In  consequence  of  fresh  scenes  with 
my  chambermaid,  and  probably  from  the  mistaken  idea  that 
I  have  taken  part  against  her  (as  if  there  were  any  choice 
between  two  angry  combatants),  she  has,  for  three  days  past, 
carried  her  ill-concealed  irritation  against  me  to  the  verge  of 
rudeness.  At  first,  I  kept  perfect  silence  ;  but,  on  the  occasion 
of  a  fresh  misapprehension  on  her  part,  she  flew  into  such  a 
rage  that  she  really  deserved  to  be  sent  away.  Be  so  good  as 
to  inform  her  of  my  very  decided  displeasure.  She  never 
offended  me  so  deeply  before,  and  it  is  but  just  that  she  should 
know  it. 


Tuesday. 

It  is  Parisse  who  will  take  you  these  lines.  If  I  dared,  I 
should  beg  you  to  make  her  hear  reason  about  her  flurry  of 
to-day.  Her  chimney  smokes,  or  so  she  says,  and  it  has  put 
her  out.  But  really  I  cannot  help  it.  The  chimney  is  excel- 
lent. It  is  made  after  the  Swedish  fashion,  the  only  one  which 
the  room  allows.  My  husband,  at  one  time,  ordered  it  made 
for  himself  ;  and  if  it  smoke  occasionally,  which  happens  to  all 
earthly  chimneys,  it  can  be  only  while  the  wind  blows  from  a 
particular  quarter,  or  when  it  has  been  a  long  time  without  a 
fire.  However,  I  shall  have  it  examined  and  swept  again. 
I  think  this  a  reasonable  precaution ;  but  I  do  not  think  it 
desirable  to  alter  a  chimney  which  fulfils  every  condition  of 
successful  operation.  A  thousand  pardons,  dearest,  for  adding 
my  vexations  to  your  own  sufferings.  If  it  was  words,  and  not 
signs,  I  wanted  of  you,  I  would  make  every  other  consideration 
bend  to  your  need  of  resting  your  poor  dear  chest. 


296  LIFE    OP   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

Thursday,  6  o'clock. 

.  .  .  Alas,  my  dear !  this  poor  Parisse  is  doing  like  all  the 
rest  of  the  world,  —  spoiling  her  own  happiness.  She  lets  her 
faults  encroach  upon  a  multitude  of  good  qualities.  Pardon 
me  for  troubling  you !  If  I  did  not,  something  else  would ; 
for  such  is  life  ! 

Another  paroxysm  !  There  have  ceased  to  be  either  inter- 
vals or  exceptions  to  her  fits  of  passion.  She  has  just  been  to 
me  with  some  pieces  of  bread  in  her  hand.  I  did  not  know 
what  to  understand  by  this,  unless  it  meant  that  she  could  live 
with  nobody.  Mile.  Gladie  is  at  least  as  much  the  object  of 
her  wrath  as  M.  Henri.  The  two  sexes  are  on  a  level.  Nothing 
remains  but  to  leave  her  to  make  the  experiment  of  freedom. 
Be  so  good  as  to  tell  her  that  I  will  allow  her  a  pension  of  five 
hundred  francs,  which  she  will  continue  to  receive  after  my 
death ;  and  that,  since  she  finds  herself  so  unhappy,  she  has 
only  to  abridge  her  martyrdom.  If  you  knew  a  deaf  mute 
with  whom  she  could  agree,  or  a  house  which  would  receive 
her,  it  would  be  very  kind  of  you  to  mention  it.  Even  in 
that  case,  it  may  be  only  an  experiment ;  but  it  may  be  also 
that  she  will  profit  by  the  lessons  of  experience. 

Here,  my  dear,  is  a  little  word  which  came  to  me  yesterday, 
in  my  retreat,  from  Cloppet : — 

MADAMK, —  I  do  not  send  Parisse  to  you  to-day  :  Mile.  Ferment 
wants  her  to-morrow.  She  eats  almost  nothing,  is  very  sad,  and 
I  have  talked  to  her  a  great  deal.  She  appears  to  understand 
her  position,  and  is  very  anxious  to  submit  to  you,  and  be  recon- 
ciled with  everybody.  She  is  disposed  to  shake  hands  witli  who- 
ever will.  I  think,  if  they  persist,  she  will  fall  ilL  Your  devoted 
servant,  CLOPPET. 

I  am  the  more  readily  touched,  as  you  may  guess,  because 
I  am  punishing  myself  as  much  as  her. 

This  test  was  final ;  and  poor  Parisse  finally  acquired 
strength  enough  to  avoid  open  conflicts,  both  with  others 
and  herself,  so  that  she  deserved  one  day  to  see  her  own 
features  engraved  by  an  imperishable  burin1  behind  the 
face  of  her  benefactress. 

1  ;l  I  saw,  while  we  were  watching  the  sad  setting  of  that  beauteous 
star,  her  beloved  mute,  following  her  with  her  eyes  from  an  adjoining 
chamber,  the  vigilant  sentinel  of  a  life  which  had  been  so  lavish  of  itself, 
and  whose  light  went  out  with  faithful  friendship  on  the  one  side  anil 
grateful  poverty  on  the  other."  —  Funeral  Oration  on  Mine.  Swelckine, 
by  Father  Lacordaire,  "  Correspoudant "  of  Oct.  25,  1869. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  297 

During  Mme.  Swetchine's  summer  sojourns,  either  at 
watering-places  or  in  the  environs  of  Paris,  one  of  her 
greatest  pleasures  was  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  tho 
Sisters  of  Charity  in  the  place,  and  assume  the  care  of 
some  poor  family.  At  St.  Germain,  she  had  been  a 
constant  visitor  at  the  House  of  the  Ladies  of  St.  Thomas 
de  Villeneuve.  A  young  novice,  from  a  convent  of  that 
order  in  Trinidad,  had  been  forced  by  unhappy  circum- 
stances to  cross  the  sea;  and  Providence  had  guided  her  to 
Mme.  Swetchine,  who,  not  content  with  placing  her  in 
the  Convent  of  St.  Germain  and  paying  her  board,  went 
frequently  to  see  her,  and,  after  her  death,  raised  a  pious 
monument  to  her  memory. 

In  1838,  the  cure  of  Chantilly  introduced  her  to  a  well- 
educated  family,  which  had  fallen  into  extreme  poverty. 
An  aged  mother,  Mme.  Louvos,  was  supported  by  the 
insufficient  labor  of  her  daughter,  not  yet  seventeen  years 
old.  Mme.  Swetchine  did  not  rest  satisfied  with  the  as- 
sistance she  afforded  them  both  during  the  autumn  she 
passed  at  Chantilly.  In  the  month  of  January,  she  ob- 
tained a  place  for  young  Eliza  Louvos,  as  assistant  direc- 
tress of  a  work-room. 

"  There,"  writes  Mile.  Louvos  herself,  "what  good  did  she 
not  do  my  soul  by  her  affectionate  counsels !  When,  some- 
times, I  had  doubts  about  my  vocation,  and  thought  to  change 
my  situation,  then  it  was  that  I  perceived  how  brightly  the 
flame  of  charity  burned  in  her  soul.  How  kindly  she  pointed 
out  of  what  use  I  could  be  to  the  young  persons  intrusted  to 
me,  and  exhorted  me  to  patience  ! " 

Mile.  Eliza  Louvos  is  now  directress  of  one  of  the 
principal  work-rooms  in  Paris. 

At  Vichy,  where  Mme.  Swetchine  went  for  ten  or 
twelve  successive  years,  her  charitable  life  was  as  full  as 
in  Paris ;  and  there  her  memory  is  still  revered. 


298  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

As  soon  as  she  arrived  at  Vichy,  the  poor  told  the  news 
to  one  another,  and  gathered  about  her.  Among  them, 
she  distinguished  a  little  lame  child,  disabled  in  one  arm, 
epileptic,  and  actually  repulsive  in  appearance.  To  him 
she  devoted  herself.  The  poor  child's  intellect  was  very 
feeble.  His  parents  lived  in  a  parish  at  some  distance 
from  Vichy,  and  allowed  him  to  beg  from  door  to  door, 
aimless  and  solitary,  through  all  the  fashionable  season. 
Mme.  Swetchine  was  moved  by  this  sad  state  of  vaga- 
bondage, and  placed  him  at  the  hospice  at  Vichy,  where 
she  paid  his  board,  and  took  all  pains  to  insure  his  kindly 
treatment  and  Christian  instruction.  Gilbert's  heart  was 
more  deeply  touched  than  might  have  been  expected  from 
his  condition,  which  apparently  bordered  on  idiocy.  His 
gratitude  to  Mme.  Swetchine  soon  became  actual  worship. 
They  could  induce  him  to  do  any  thing  by  pronouncing  her 
name,  or  reminding  him  of  her  words.  Mme.  Swetchine 
wrote  out  for  him  a  rule  of  conduct,  adapted  to  his  various 
needs  and  sufferings.  Gilbert  was  sometimes  unfaithful  to 
it ;  but,  when  he  found  the  fashionable  season  approaching, 
he  would  seize  his  little  book,  and  set  about  obeying  its 
injunctions  in  every  particular.  Nothing  could  equal  his 
joy  at  the  advent  of  Mme.  Swetchine.  Informed  of  her 
expected  arrival  by  Mme.  Chaloin,  the  proprietress  of  the 
house  where  Mme.  Swetchine  stopped,  —  and  who  has 
given  us  these  details  herself,  —  Gilbert  was  on  the  spot 
when  she  descended  from  her  carriage.  And  Mme.  Swet- 
chine would  pat  him  caressingly  on  the  shoulder,  and  often 
said  to  Mme.  Chaloin,  "  If  there  was  any  hope  of  his  cure, 
I  should  take  him  with  me  to  Paris."  She  gave  him  some 
of  her  husband's  clothes,  which  they  fitted  to  his  figure, 
and  which  made  him  so  proud  that  he  said  one  day  to 
the  Sisters  at  the  hospice,  "  My  good  Sisters,  I  intend  to 


LIFE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  299 

offer  myself  to  the  handsomest  and  richest  girl  in  Vichy. 
Nobody  will  refuse  me  when  they  know  that  I  am  a 
protege  of  Mme.  Swetchine."  On  the  day  of  her  de- 
parture, Gilbert  was  the  last  to  take  leave  of  her,  and 
would  then  stay  for  hours  motionless  upon  the  pavement 
opposite  the  Hotel  Chaloin,  with  his  tearful  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  closed  blinds.  After  her  return  to  Paris,  Mme. 
Swetchine  kept  herself  informed  about  him,  by  corre- 
spondence with  the  Sisters  at  the  hospice.  Instead  of  im- 
proving, Gilbert's  health  became  more  and  more  wretched. 
Mme.  Swetchine,  who  had  never  expressed  a  generous 
thought  without  translating  it  into  action,  recalled  her 
emotions  on  witnessing  the  pious  interment  of  the  poor  in 
Italy,  and  wrote  thus  to  the  Superior  of  the  hospice :  — 

PARIS,  Oct  16, 1849. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER,  —  Mme.  Chaloin  has  already  given  you 
my  message ;  and  I  desire  to  confirm  and  complete  the  request 
which  she  made  in  my  name  about  Gilbert,  in  case  of  an  event 
which,  at  my  age,  I  should  not  anticipate  were  we  not  con- 
stantly outstripped  by  those  who  should  survive  us.  If  that 
event  occurs,  my  dear  Sister,  these  are  my  wishes  about  poor 
Gilbert's  funeral.  I  request  that  the  holy  sacrament  be  admin- 
istered in  presence  of  the  body,  and  his  remains  taken  to  a 
cemetery  by  four  bearers,  accompanied  by  an  ecclesiastic.  I 
further  request  that  twelve  masses  be  said  on  his  behalf,  and 
a  very  simple  stone  placed  over  his  grave,  so  that  I  may  know 
the  spot,  if,  which  is  very  unlikely,  I  should  live  longer  than  he. 
In  case  my  death  precedes  his,  I  beg  that  the  same  ceremonies 
may  be  observed,  and  the  expense  defrayed  from  the  legacy 
which  I  shall  leave  him. 

Notwithstanding  the  care  of  the  physician-in-chief  of 
the  Vichy  waters,  M.  Prunelle,1  who  transferred  to  the 
poor  young  man  a  portion  of  the  attachment  which  he  felt 
for  Mme.  Swetchine,  Gilbert  died  at  the  age  of  twenty- 

1  The  old  deputy  from  Lyons. 


300  LIFE    O*    MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

five,  in  the  month  of  October,  1841.  The  Superior  has- 
tened to  communicate  the  fact  to  Mme.  Swetchine,  who  at 
once  replied  by  the  ensuing  letter  :  — 

CHANTILLY,  Oct.  28. 

MY  DEAR  AND  GOOD  SISTER,  —  I  cannot  tell  you  how  deeply 
I  mourn.  I  was  truly  attached  to  that  poor  child,  whose  good 
and  pure  heart  must,  in  its  simplicity,  have  been  pleasing  to  our 
Lord.  I  am  comforted  by  the  thought  that  he  is  released  from 
his  cruel  sufferings,  and  especially  by  the  increased  piety  which 
struck  me  even  last  summer.  My  dear  Sister,  your  indulgence 
and  commiseration,  together  with  those  of  your  companions, 
an<l,  above  all,  your  example,  have  been  the  most  efficient 
means  employed  by  divine  pity  for  his  salvation.  Thank  you 
once  more  for  the  kindness  you  have  shown  the  poor  dear  boy, 
on  whose  intercession  I  greatly  rely.  We  have  changed  parts. 
Yesterday  I  was  one  of  his  props :  to-day  he  is  one  of  mine. 

The  little  Hotel  de  Beaujolais  was  and  is  still  kept  by 
Mme.  Jarry,  who  also  fulfilled  the  duties  of  bathing-woman. 
The  heart  of  this  humble  woman  had  divined  the  heart  of 
Mme.  Swetchine,  so  accessible  was  she  to  all.  When  she 
was  questioned  about  her  intercourse  with  Mme.  Swet- 
chine, she  had  not  heard  of  her  death,  and  she  burst  into 
tears.  "  Ah  !  "  she  cried  in  a  flood  of  weeping,  "  Mme. 
Swetchine  was  a  holy  woman,  —  a  true  saint !  There  are 
no  more  such !  The  more  unhappy  you  were,  the  more 
she  loved  you.  She  thought  more  of  a  poor  person  than 
of  a  prince.  She  would  not  have  harmed  a  fly.  If  one 
fell  into  her  bathing-tub,  she  would  lift  it  out  delicately  on 
her  finger,  and  say  to  me,  '  My  dear  friend,  put  it  back  in 
the  sun.  It  is  one  of  God's  little  creatures.'  I  knew  that 
she  suffered  a  great  deal  in  the  bath,  though  she  did  not 
complain ;  and  I  never  hurried  her ;  and  I  used  to  say  to 
the  men  of  the  establishment,  '  She  is  not  like  other 
ladies !  She  must  be  kept  alive,  and  have  all  the  time  she 
wants.  Is  she  not  worth  them  all  ? '  But  they  did  not 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  301 

feel  this  at  the  establishment ;  and,  when  I  went  away,  the 
other  bathing-women  hurried  her,  and  then  she  did  not  go 
there  any  more.  The  moments  I  passed  near  her  were  the 
happiest  of  my  life." 

It  may  be  imagined  that  Mme.  Swetchine's  charitable 
activity  stopped  here.  We  have  not  begun  to  give  an  idea 
of  it.  She  was  simultaneously,  and  as  it  were  doubly,  en- 
gaged in  Russia  and  in  France.  Her  peasants  —  guar- 
dianship over  whom  she  never  would  resign  —  were  the 
objects  of  her  unceasing  watchfulness  and  constant  corre- 
spondence. Her  friends  in  the  interior  of  Russia  kept  her 
informed  of  all  that  was  done  on  her  estates,  and  of  all 
obedience  and  disobedience  of  her  orders ;  and  it  is  plain 
from  their  replies,  that  she  who  questioned  was  much 
more  concerned  about  what  might  affect  the  well-being  or 
moral  dignity  of  her  families,  than  about  the  increase 
or  diminution  of  her  own  income.  We  see  her  unceasingly 
promoting  and  facilitating  manumission,  preventing  or 
making  amends  for  the  disastrous  transportation  of  serfs 
from  one  estate  to  another,  and  infecting  others  with  her 
own  perseverance  and  energy  in  prosecuting  reforms  of 
every  kind.  We  give  one  short  fragment  from  the  count- 
less letters  addressed  to  her  on  this  subject :  — 

TO   MME.    SWETCHINE. 

I  have  at  last  received  a  confidential  letter  from  one  of  the 
fugitives  from  your  estate  of  Nijni.  I  gave  him  an  audience 
on  my  balcony,  under  cover  of  a  cloudy,  moonless  night,  that 
we  might  not  be  overheard  by  the  people  who  were  sitting  up 
in  the  antechamber." 

Another  passage  borrowed  from  the  same  correspondent 
explains  the  necessity  for  these  precautions :  — 

"  To  give  you  a  specimen  of  the  thoughts  and  hearts  of  these 
peasants,  whom  people  are  pleased  to  believe  sunk  in  sensualism, 


302  LIFE    OP   MADAME    STVETCHIXE. 

I  will  quote  a  few  words  from  one  of  your  people  from  Saratov, 
when  they  came  to  my  house  in  a  body  on  my  arrival  here. 
After  their  first  outburst  of  joy  at  seeing  me,  they  began  to  re- 
count their  griefs  and  wrongs,  the  exactions,  the  forced  labor 
on  the  roads,  the  compulsory  marriages ;  and  their  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  I  asked  if  they  had  complained  of  these  abuses  to 
M.  X.  '  No  :  M.  X.  does  not  ask  us,  and  we  do  not  dare  to 
open  conversation,'  was  the  general  reply.  A  tall  young  man, 
with  a  marked  countenance,  who  had  already  impressed  me  by 
the  strong  emotion  depicted  on  his  face,  came  out  of  the  group, 
approached  me,  and  said,  with  his  eyes  full,  '  Who  of  us  would 

dare  speak  the  truth  ?     I  am  the  son  of  Ivan ,  whose  life 

has  been  one  agony.  He  was  twenty-five  years  in  Siberia,  sep- 
arated from  all  his  family  and  his  sons,  because,  with  the  best 
intentions,  he  revealed  certain  facts  against  the  surveyor.  The 
same  thing  will  happen  to  us  if  we  speak  the  truth.'  The  un- 
fortunate young  man  was  right.  1  myself  labored  for  three 
years  and  a  half  to  get  poor  Ivan  back  iroin  Siberia.  He  came 
four  years  ago,  but  he  is  only  the  shadow  of  himself." 

The  crisis  which  property  in  Russia  is  at  this  moment 
going  through,  and  the  magnanimous  measures  decreed  by 
Alexander  II.  in  connection  with  the  nobles  of  his  realm, 
impose  great  reserve  upon  this  question.  This  fragment 
will  suffice  to  give  some  idea  of  what  Mme.  Swetchine's 
thoughts  and  wishes  would  have  been  if  she  had  lived. 

Along  with  these  sources  of  sorrow,  Russia  also  fur- 
nished her  consolations  to  Mme.  Swetchine.  Almost  every 
year,  old  friends  from  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow  came  to 
pass  the  winter  in  Paris ;  and  their  constant  presence  in 
the  salon  of  the  Rue  St.  Dominique  bore  witness  to  the 
charm  which  allured  and  held  them  captive  there.  Here 
were  seen  the  aged  Count  Romanzof,  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  courtiers  of  the  Empress  Catherine,  who 
undertook  the  journey  after  he  had  entered  upon  his 
ninety-sixth  year ;  Count  Xavier  de  Maistre ;  the  Count 
and  Countess  Strogonof,  son  and  daughter-in-law  of 
Baron  Strogouof;  Princess  Wittgenstein,  daughter  of 
Prince  Bariatinsky;  Prince  Nicholas  Troubeskoy,  and 


LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  303 

Prince  Michael  Galitzin.  Occasionally  the  Princess  Gar- 
garin  came  to  share  her  sorrow  with  her  sister,  and  display 
the  progress  of  her  sons.  The  Countess  de  Nesselrode 
never  allowed  many  years  to  pass  without  seeing  Mme. 
Swetchine,  at  least  for  a  few  days.  When  the  relations 
between  the  court  of  Tuileries  and  that  of  St.  Petersburg 
were  such  that  her  presence  at  Paris  might  have  been  pro- 
ductive of  inconvenience,  Mme.  de  Nesselrode  met  Mme. 
Swetchine  at  Metz  or  Nancy,  and  enjoyed  for  a  few  weeks 
a  monopoly  of  her  friend's  society,  or  summoned  her  across 
the  frontiers  of  France  to  Baden  or  Frankfort.  Finally, 
the  Countess  Edling  consented  to  suspend  for  a  time  her 
vast  agricultural  enterprises,  and  come  to  Paris  ;  and  when 
her  niece,  Maria  Stourdza,  had  attained  her  eighteenth  year, 
Countess  Edling  secured  to  her  her  fortune,  and  informed 
Mme.  Swetchiue  that  she  desired  one  of  her  nephews  for 
an  adopted  son.  The  marriage  of  Prince  Eugene  Gargarin 
and  Mile.  Stourdza  set  the  final  seal  upon  the  affection  of 
these  two  friends  ;  and  to  this  day  Mansir  holds  in  venera- 
tion those  two  dear  memories,  and  worships  them  with  the 
same  grateful,  filial  love. 


304  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Revolution  of  1848. —  Mme.  Swetchine's  opinion  of  the  events  and  per- 
sonages of  this  epoch.  —  M.  de  Radowitz.  —  Donoso  Cortes.  —  M.  Ber- 
ryer.  —  Death  of  General  Swetchine.  —  Crimean  war.  —  Death  of  the 
Emperor  Nicholas. 

THE  affections  of  Mme.  Swetchine  made  her  so 
thoroughly  French,  that  it  is  natural  to  mark  the 
periods  of  her  life  by  the  vicissitudes  of  our  history.  No 
mind  foresaw  and  judged  them  more  clearly  than  hers. 
No  heart  did  they  move  more  deeply.  All  the  dissensions 
and  struggles  which  preceded  the  Revolution  of  February 
found  an  immediate  echo  in  the  salon  of  Mme.  Swetchine. 
Those  who  yielded  to  too  great  a  sense  of  security,  and  those 
who  justified  their  sentiments  and  their  conduct  by  the 
most  gloomy  predictions,  were  there  in  equal  force,  and 
vied  with  one  another.  Mme.  Swetchine  wavered  some- 
what between  the  two  parties ;  for  she  had  fewer  illusions 
than  the  one,  and  was  less  impatient  than  the  other. 
When  the  catastrophe  of  the  28th  of  February,  1848, 
occurred,  it  did  not  greatly  astonish  Mme.  Swetchine, 
although,  like  the  authors  of  the  Revolution  themselves, 
she  had  foreseen  neither  its  character  nor  its  date.  Her 
first  and  greatest  consolation  in  the  midst  of  the  universal 
anxiety  was  to  commend  the  efforts,  the  resources,  the 
courage  and  fortitude,  of  a  great  people,  easily  surprised, 
but  prompt  to  re-act  by  a  sudden  inspiration  against  its 
own  imprudence,  and  triumphing  over  anarchy  without 
violating  liberty.  To  the  contemplation  of  this  spectacle 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  305 

she  was  ever  essaying  to  turn  minds  over-irritated  at  their 
own  defeat,  or  unduly  discouraged  by  the  public  calami- 
ties. 

On  the  5th  of  March,  she  wrote  to  the  Countess  de 
Nesselrode :  — 

..."  Two  noble  decrees  have  already  issued  from  the  nine 
days'  chaos,  —  the  abolition  of  the  penalty  of  death  for  political 
offences,  and  the  suppression  of  the  oath,  which  means  the  sup- 
pression of  perjury.  There  is  supreme  good  sense  in  removing 
this  obligation  from  the  French  people,  which  was  getting 
thoroughly  used  to  falsehood.  These  two  decrees  evidently 
emanate  from  M.  de  Lamartine,  to  whom,  despite  my  past  and 
present  grievances,  I  cannot  deny  lofty  views,  civil  courage, 
and  a  generous  inspiration.  Some  one  remarked  the  other  day, 
that,  in  his  '  Girondists,'  he  had  erected  Jhe  stage  on  which  he 
himself  was  to  appear.  Now,  whatever  may  have  been  the  in- 
fluence exercised  by  this  work,  he  spares  no  pains  to  remedy 
the  harm  he  has  done ;  and  it  would  be  impossible  to  show 
one's  self  cooler  and  firmer  than  did  he  at  the  point  of  the  bayo- 
nets which  touched  him  the  other  day  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville." 

After  the  revolutionary  movement  had  communicated 
itself  to  all  parts  of  Europe,  she  wrote  to  the  Countess 
Chreptowitch,  then  residing  at  Naples :  — 

PARIS,  April  6,  1848. 

MY  DEAR  HELEN, — When  we  see  what  is  going  on  from 
one  end  of  Europe  to  the  other,  does  it  not  seem  as  if  a  gigan- 
tic and  universal  design  were  being  accomplished  ?  It  is  easy 
to  see  the  mistakes  that  have  been  made ;  but  these  cannot 
account  for  such  simultaneousness,  such  concert,  and  <wh 
rapidity.  Do  not  think  for  a  moment  that  nothing  is  needed 
to  arrest  these  events,  save  a  keener  eye  and  a  stronger  arm. 
In  the  presence  of  great  public  acts,  men  rarely  look  other 
than  small.  To-day  all  are  powerless  before  the  irresistible. 

Glancing  at  the  state  of  England,  which  was  agitated, 
but  not  disordered,  Mme.  Swetchine  added :  — 

"Battles  whose  issue  astonishes  the  victors  no  less  than  the 
vanquished  are  less  rare  than  is  commonly  supposed.  What 
strikes  me  in  the  contests  of  Englishmen  is  a  certain  substantial 

20 


30G  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

quality  about  the  passions  brought  into  play.  You  feel,  that, 
be  their  cause  true  or  false,  they  venture  neck  or  nothing ;  that 
they  throw  themselves  bodily  into  public  affairs,  and  make  them 
their  own  ;  and  that  the  interests  they  are  called  upon  to  defend, 
have  been,  as  a  general  thing,  transmitted  through  many  gener- 
ations, and  have  passed,  as  it  were,  into  their  blood.  This 
state  of  things  differs  widely  from  the  factitious  and  superficial 
character  of  new  constitutionalities,  where,  when  individual 
interest  is  not  the  decisive  agent,  the  vague  fancy  of  the  mo- 
ment plays  so  great  a  part.  Surely  I  have  no  desire  to  abase 
France  before  her  rival ;  yet  one  can  but  feel  that  habits  of 
political  activity  have  become  a  second  but  real  nature  in 
England,  while  in  France  they  are  only  a  conventionalism. 
The  result  is,  that  the  witnesses  of  a  national  struggle  in  France 
follow  it  with  a  merely  intellectual  interest ;  while,  in  England, 
the  general  pre-occupation  is  contagious,  and,  in  lieu  of  simply 
observing,  one  is  inevitably  involved." 

TO   THE   COUNTESS   DE   NESSELRODE. 

PARIS,  March  18, 1848. 

It  has  been  said  with  some  justice,  that  the  Republic  entered 
by  a  door  which  was  accidentally  left  open ;  but  it  Avas  so  left 
because  no  one  dreamed  of  such  an  intrusion.  Nothing  can  be 
more  idle  than  making  distinctions  between  the  republicans  of 
yesterday  and  the  republicans  of  to-day :  for  the  truth  is,  that, 
before  the  Revolution,  there  were  radicals,  communists,  and  a 
multitude  of  generally  lawless  individuals,  but  no  republicans, 
properly  speaking ;  that  is,  none  who  advocated  a  republi- 
can form  and  system  of  government.  The  republicans  of  to- 
day are  perfectly  well  aware,  that  the  Republic,  as  a  form  of 
government,  had  not  even  an  imaginary  existence.  It  is  there- 
fore unripe,  and  we  cannot  but  realize  it ;  for  the  measures 
taken  to  force  this  fine  fruit  to  maturity  are  sufficiently  harsh. 
During  the  first  few  days,  the  relief  from  our  fright  and  aston- 
ishment were  so  great,  that  we  seemed  comparatively  able  to 
breathe ;  but  the  free  air  did  not  long  continue  to  circulate  in 
our  lungs,  and  we  speedily  entered  upon  the  path  of  intimida- 
tion. 

Mme.  Swetchine  here  enumerates  the  various  causes  for 
the  decline  of  the  monarchical  party,  and  adds :  — 

..."  We  must  also  reckon  the  handful  of  men  whose  num- 
bers may  increase,  and  which  lives  on  the  memories  of  the 
Empire,  personified  in  Prince  Louis  and  one  Prince  Murat,  who, 


LIFE    OP    MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  307 

they  say,  is  crossing  the  Atlantic  in  great  haste,  if  he  be  not 
swimming.  If,  then,  civil  war  is  possible  in  this  country,  it  is 
so  only  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  Republic,  between  the 
elements  of  '89  and  those  of  '93,  between  the  government  of 
base  violence  and  that  of  public  reason,  between  the  agrarian 
law  and  respect  for  property,  &c.  It  is  now  some  time  since 
the  symptoms  of  this  grand  division  declared  themselves. 
Ye.sterday,  Monday,  the  17th,  there  was  a  momentary  explosion. 
There  is  considerable  agitation  even  to-day.  The  Garde 
Mobile,  the  National  Guard,  and  that  of  the  Suburbs,  composed 
almost  entirely  of  people  who  have  something  to  lose,  have 
finally  assumed  an  attitude  of  resistance.  It  is  much  to  be 
feared,  that  bloody  collisions  will  result,  and  that  we  shall  no 
longer  be  able  to  say,  with  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  '  It  is  mar- 
vellous !  —  fire  everywhere,  and  nothing  burning.' 

"  All  violent  struggles  entail  misfortune;  but,  even  if  these 
must  come,  I  can  hardly  believe  that  we  are  in  danger  of 
massacres,  or  even  of  judicial  assassinations,  like  those  of  the 
first  Revolution.  It  is  not  merely  the  abolition  of  the  death- 
penalty  which  re-assures  me.  It  is  that  the  wind  does  not  blow 
from  that  quarter.  If  there  is  slaughter,  it  will  only  be  of 
purses  which  are  already  sick. 

"  Our  protection  thus  far  has  been  an  undefinable  instinct 
of  honor  and  delicacy  ;  for,  with  the  mass  of  men,  this  instinct  is 
not  rooted  in  duty,  and  has  no  positive  moral  sanction.  It  is  a 
species  of  good  sense,  which,  thus  far,  has  resisted  the  most  dis- 
organizing doctrines ;  but  who  knows  if  it  will  always  be  in 
the  ascendant  ?  It  is  only  well-grounded  principles  which  can 
contend  against  the  mind's  ju.st  apprehensions,  and  such  princi- 
ples do  not  exist.  It  must  also  be  confessed,  that  the  merit  of 
not  having  interfered  with  the  rights  of  others  is  considerably 
diminished  by  the  mere  absence  of  resistance.  All  are  provided 
for,  and  all  do  as  they  list ;  and,  between  these  two  terms,  there 
is  no  room  for  discontent.  A  further  distinguishing  peculiarity 
of  this  time  is,  that  there  is  no  trace,  among  the  people,  of  that 
brutality  which  is  so  repulsive  in  the  memorials  of  the  Republic 
of  '93.  Armed  like  brigands,  and  in  all  the  haste  of  tlu-ir 
effervescence,  they  form  a  line  to  let  you  pass  ;  they  (juit  the 
pavement  to  make  room  for  you  ;  and,  if  they  address  you,  it  is 
with  the  most  benevolent  politeness.  All  this  implies  great 
national  qualities ;  but  qualities  are  only  natural  disposition, 
which  is  an  insufficient  defence.  Virtue  alone  treads  firmly  in 
the  right  way,  and  inspires  us  with  perfect  confidence." 

After  the  terrible  days  of  June,  Mine.  Swetchine 
wrote :  — 


308  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"  What  a  shock,  and  what  an  internal  palpitation,  so  profound 
a  commotion  leaves  behind !  This  one  has  lost  the  character 
of  an  emeute.  It  is  civil  war  in  its  most  tragic  aspect.  Never 
before  were  the  barricades  known  to  cost  the  lives  of  six 
generals.  I  fear,  my  dear  friend,  that  the  evil  is  as  deep-rooted 
as  it  is  striking  and  salient.  It  is  no  longer  merely  a  war 
between  parties,  and  it  may  be  that  the  duration  of  any  ac- 
quired ascendency  has  become  impossible.  Reverence  was 
very  weak  before ;  but  now  the  fact  that  a  man  seems  to  deserve 
some  esteem  excites  implacable  hostility.  Thus,  General 
Cavaignac,  who  has  come  out  very  nobly  in  these  last  conflicts, 
and  whose  words  and  deeds  and  character  are  of  so  lofty  an 
order,  already  begins  to  encounter  an  underhand  opposition ; 
and  the  malevolence  which  formerly  concealed  itself  in  the 
hearts  of  his  rivals  now  tinges  public  sentiment.  But  thus  far  — 
and  the  fact  gives  me  a  little  hope  —  religion,  the  clergy,  and 
every  thing  connected  with  them,  have  had  the  singular  good 
fortune  to  escape  this  disposition  of  the  great  majority.  The 
death  of  our  Archbishop  was,  of  course,  a  perfectly  exceptional 
case  ;  but  never  in  my  life  have  I  seen  so  vast  and  general  an 
impression,  or  one  which  so  united  in  one  service  of  veneration 
men  of  the  most  radical  differences.  It  is  now  acknowledged, 
even  by  those  who  are  least  friendly  to  Christianity,  that,  in 
the  midst  of  disorders  which  threaten  society  with  dissolution, 
the  Church  alone  is  alive  and  undisturbed.  The  theories  which 
oppose  her  action  are  not  all  vanquished ;  many  prejudices  still 
exist ;  but  her  representatives  have  won  back  the  favor  they 
had  lost,  the  opposition  to  them  has  no  longer  the  prestige  of 
numbers,  and  the  most  indifferent  do  not  repel  the  priest.  lie 
is  seen  to  mingle  with  all  classes  of  the  population,  but  only 
with  the  aim  of  doing  good ;  and  he  is  scrupulously  circum- 
scribed within  the  limits  of  his  ministry. 

TO   THE  COUNTESS  DE  VIRIEU.1 

PARIS,  July  7,  1848. 

.  .  .  If  we  have  had  our  terrible  battles,  you  too,  they  tell  me, 
have  been  on  the  alert !  It  would  seem  as  if  now-a-days,  there 
was  but  one  alternative,  —  either  to  undergo  evil  or  to  dread  it. 
Still  I  think  the  situation  is  improved.  The  bad  passions  which 
have  cost  so  much  blood  have  by  no  means  changed  their 
nature :  but  they  have  aroused  forces  which  are  conscious  of 
themselves  ;  and  confidence  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  discourage- 


1  The  Viscountess  de  Virieu,  tufe  de  Lostanges. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  309 

ment  of  failure  on  the  other,  work  together  in  favor  of  order. 
I  know,  alas !  how  little  reliance  is  to  be  placed  on  this.  No- 
where on  earth,  dear  madaine,  is  that  poor  human  race,  which 
St.  Augustine  once  called  the  great  invalid,  a  unit ;  but  in 
France  it  is  less  so  than  elsewhere.  Here  every  thing  is  carried 
to  extremes,  and  side  by  side  with  the  most  monstrous  crimes 
you  see  the  most  sublime  acts  of  sell-devotion.  What  is  true 
of  deeds  is  also  true  of  sentiments,  and  France  often  reminds 
me  of  that  Arabian  coast  which  produces  nothing  but  poisons 
and  healing  herbs.  Great  resources  always  co-exist  with  this 
remarkable  vitality ;  but  every  thing  depends  upon  the  choice 
of  means. 

The  pre-occupation  of  the  public  mind  has  not  prevented  us 
from  mourning  a  death  which  must  have  touched  you  very  nearly. 
The  great  and  growing  weakness  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand  had, 
to  some  extent,  prepared  us  for  the  end ;  but  his  death  is  deeply 
felt,  and  a  just  homage  is  very  generally  rendered  to  his  merits. 
The  letter  in  which  the  Abb£  Deguerry  announces  the  event  to 
the  editor  of  the  Debats,  contains  some  noble  and  beautiful 
sentences,  which  fairly  portray  the  sentiments  by  which  his  life 
was  governed,  —  sentiments  which  the  whim  of  the  moment  was 
only  occasionally  able  to  obscure. 

After  the  election  of  December  10,  Mme.  Swetchine 
wrote :  — 

TO   THE  COUNTESS   DE  

Were  you  not  surprised  at  that  Napoleonic  recrudescence  ? 
at  the  proofs  of  a  passion  which  the  people  had  unconsciously 
borne  in  its  breast  for  thirty  years  ?  It  must  be  acknowledged, 
that  there  is  a  large  admixture  of  hatred  in  this  love,  and  that 
horror  of  the  Republic  is  in  a  great  measure  responsible  for 
this  re-action  toward  the  memories  of  the  Empire.  As  a  matter 
of  individual  preference,  the  great  majority  of  superior  minds 
would  have  chosen  General  Cavaignae  :  but,  while  rendering  him 
personal  homage,  some  dreaded  what  are  supposed  to  be  the 
little  weaknesses  of  his  character ;  others,  his  avowed  prefer- 
ence for  the  republican  form  of  government ;  and  almost  all,  his 
past  connections,  which  he  has  never  been  willing  to  break  off. 
I  reject  in  this  connection,  as  utterly  absurd  and  calumnious, 
the  suspicion  lurking  in  the  minds  of  some,  that  he  was  in  league 
with  the  anarchists.  What  a  strange  destiny  !  General  <  ';i- 
vaignac  has  been  rejected  by  the  healthy  party  in  France,  out 
of  distrust  of  his  ultra-liberalism;  and  he  is  the  only  man  in  that 
same  France  who  is  utterly  execrated  by  socialists  and  com- 


310  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

munists  of  every  date  and  description.  It  is  more  than  prob- 
able that  he  would  have  fallen  under  their  blows,  if  he  had 
arrived  at  the  Presidency.  But,  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  his  praise 
is,  with  a  few  exceptions,  in  every  mouth  ;  and,  for  myself,  he  is 
the  only  man  of  the  time  who  has  appeared  to  me  to  be  always 
upright,  sincere,  loyal,  consistent,  and  perfectly  honest.  There 
is  something  antique  about  his  virtue ;  and,  if  his  country  had 
been  in  any  sense  republican,  she  would  have  given  him  her 
confidence. 

As  to  his  competitor,  he  is  a  transparent  body,  through  which 
every  one  sees  what  he  wishes,  and  confounds  the  image  with 
the  medium.  The  impulse  which  led  to  his  choice  was,  per- 
haps, sufficiently  immoral;  and  he  is  treated  as  the  cross-eyed 
man  treats  the  object  he  wishes  to  observe,  fixing  his  eyes  on 
quite  another  point  than  that  which  he  seems  to  regard. 
Whither  will  this  system  lead  ?  Are  not  these  combinations 
which  seem  to  penetrate  so  far  into  the  future  attended  by  great 
deceptions  ?  It  is  the  light  and  wisdom  of  this  world,  and  it 
will  be  curious  to  watch  their  effects. 

Foreign  affairs  and  diplomatic  discussions  had  always 
possessed  a  peculiar  charm  for  Mme.  Swetchine.  Her 
personal  acquaintance  with  almost  all  the  statesmen  of 
Europe  added  another  valuable  element  to  the  general 
superiority  of  her  views.  The  Countess  de  Meulan,  sister 
of  Count  Turpin  Crisse,  sister-in-law  of  M.  Guizot,  and 
thoroughly  versed  herself  in  all  the  politics  of  the  time, 
rarely  allowed  a  day  to  pass  without  calling  at  the  Rue  St. 
Dominique.  The  Princess  Lieven,  although  a  less  fre- 
quent guest  of  Mme.  Swetchine's,  set  an  equal  value  upon 
the  moments  passed  by  her  side ;  and  we  find  proof,  in  a 
little  informal  billet,  that  she  would  sometimes  have  pre- 
ferred her  society  to  that  of  an  English  diplomat. 

FRIDAY,  June  29. 

MY  DEAR  MME.  SWETCHINE, — I  am  in  consternation.  I 
hear  that  you  were  up  yesterday !  If  I  had  known  it,  I  would 
have  sent  away  my  Englishman,  an  old  friend  of  mine,  and  an 
interesting  and  valuable  man.  Will  you  forgive  me?  I  shall 
come  and  ask  pardon  in  person  to-day  or  to-morrow.  Permit 
me  to  embrace  you.  THE  PRINCESS  LIEVEN. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  311 

Among  the  representatives  of  foreign  diplomacy  at  the 
epoch  at  which  we  are  now  arrived,  two  men  in  particular 
arrested  the  attention  of  Mme.  Swetchine,  and  testified  a 
sincere  enthusiasm  for  her.  They  were  M.  de  Radowitz, 
who  was  on  a  temporary  mission  to  the  French  Govern- 
ment; and  Donoso  Cortes,  the  Spanish  ambassador  at  Paris. 
M.  de  Radowitz,  a  Westphalian  by  birth,  had  served  under 
Napoleon,  and  distinguished  himself  in  the  French  ranks  at 
the  battle  of  Leipzig.  On  the  fall  of  the  Empire,  he  entered 
the  Hessian  service  as  tutor  to  the  young  electoral  Prince. 
But  this  soon  became  too  narrow  a  theatre  for  his  energies, 
and  he  returned  to  his  native  land.  Berlin  tendered  him 
a  brilliant  welcome  ;  and  Frederic  William  nominated  him 
general  of  the  staff.  '  His  native  talents,  strengthened  by 
experience  gained  in  foreign  lands,  soon  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  Prince-royal,  who  was  more  imaginative 
in  politics  than  his  father,  and  who,  without  precisely  as- 
suming an  attitude  of  opposition,  gave  some  hint  of  the 
tendencies,  half  mystical  and  half  constitutional,  half  feudal 
and  half  revolutionary,  which  were  to  distract  his  reign. 
General  de  Radowitz,  banished  from  the  court  without 
being  utterly  disgraced,  for  having  sided  with  the  Catholics 
and  the  courageous  Archbishop  of  Cologne,  Droste  de 
Vischering,  became  more  and  more  the  representative  of 
the  principles  of  liberty  and  conscience  in  the  conservative 
and  monarchical  party.  This  position,  which  he  main- 
tained with  prudence  and  dignity,  assigned  him  an  eminent 
place,  when  the  Prince-royal,  who  had  ascended  the  throne 
in  1840  under  the  name  of  Frederic  William  IV.,  granted 
to  his  subjects  the  rudiments  of  a  representative  govern- 
ment. 

The  troubles  in  Switzerland  and  the  Sunderbund  war, 
precursors  of  the  Revolution  of  February,  had  disturbed 


312  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

and  divided  the  statesmen  of  Germany,  France,  and  Eng- 
land. General  de  Radowitz  was  sent  to  Paris,  in  1847,  to 
arrange  a  plan  of  concerted  action  between  Prussia,  Aus- 
tria, and  France.  He  had  fully  succeeded ;  and,  at  his 
farewell  audience,  these  words  were  spoken  :  "  Be  assured, 
and  assure  the  King,  your  master,  that  two  things  are  im- 
possible, either  in  France  or  through  her  influence,  —  revo- 
lution and  war."  On  his  part,  General  de  Radowitz  wrote 
to  Berlin,  "  The  throne  of  France  now  rests  on  foundations 
of  adamant." 

TVe  can  understand,  therefore,  how  bitterly  the  Prussian 
envoy  was  undeceived  when  the  Revolution  of  February 
burst  forth  and  triumphed  under  his  very  eyes.  He 
yielded  to  a  few  hours  of  despondency ;  then,  one  of  the 
Westphalian  colleges  having  chosen  him  its  representative 
at  the  Parliament  of  Frankfort,  General  de  Radowitz  re- 
appeared in  the  front  rank  of  politicians  ;  and  his  word  be- 
came law  among  them. 

While  the  glow  of  generous  ideas,  and  a  search  for  a 
possible  reconciliation  between  old  regimes  and  modern 
aspirations,  still  prevailed,  the  eyes  of  all  Germany  were 
fixed  on  General  de  Radowitz.  There  was  in  his  politi- 
cal course,  as  well  as  in  his  noble  countenance,  stamped 
with  an  air  at  once  soldierly  and  meditative,  much  to  re- 
mind one  of  the  career,  the  influence  in  Italy,  and  the 
talents,  of  Count  Balbo.  Both  acted  rather  on  ideas  than 
on  facts.  Both  saw  themselves  shipwrecked  by  the  sudden 
irruption  of  disorderly  elements  in  1848.  Both  died  sad- 
dened in  their  ardent  and  sincere  patriotism ;  despairing, 
not  of  the  future  of  which  they  had  dreamed,  but  of  the 
generation  in  which  they  had  prematurely  demanded  the 
realization  of  their  dream. 

Mme.  Swetchine  has  described  as  follows  the  lively  im- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  313 

pression  which  she  received  from  the  presence  of  M.  de 
Radowitz  in  Paris  :  — 

TO   THE   COUNTESS   DE  NES8ELRODE. 

PARIS,  January,  1848. 

...  I  must  tell  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  have  renewed  the 
experience  of  a  well-nigh  forgotten  pleasure  in  meeting  a  person 
of  your  acquaintance,  M.  de  Radowitz,  whose  mind  and  views 
have  re-awakened  all  the  enthusiasm  of  my  youth.  I  may  em- 
ploy here  the  word  sympathy,  which  indicates  a  communion  of 
natures  without  defining  its  degree.  As  I  listened  to  him,  I 
seemed  to  re-ascend  the  stream  of  time,  and  revisit  that  world 
of  inquiry,  so  little  to  the  taste  of  Frenchmen,  where  my 
thought  served  her  first  campaign.  Yet  I  have  never  seen  a 
stranger  produce  more  effect  than  M.  de  Radowitz  outside 
political  circles.  I  saw  that  all  the  distinguished  men  who  heard 
him  were  as  much  impressed  by  his  personal  superiority  as  by 
the  new  turn  he  gave  their  minds.  They  say  that  M.  Guizot 
and  M.  Mole*  were  particularly  struck  by  it.  The  reason  is, 
that,  beneath  all  that  intellectual  force,  we  feel,  we  discern  the 
moral  authority,  without  which,  however  lofty  the  range  of  ideas,  - 
human  nature  has  no  dignity. 

When  General  Radowitz  had  left  Paris,  the  regrets  of 

*  O 

Mme.  Swetchine  followed  him  to  Berlin,  where  the  Count 
de  Circourt  was  then  residing  in  the  quality  of  minister 
plenipotentiary :  — 

TO   THE  COUNTESS  DE  CIRCOURT. 

PARIS,  March  26, 1848. 

.  .  .  You  may  guess,  my  dearest,  whether  I  think  of  you ! 
The  trouble  of  one  day  is  only  held  in  check  by  the  menace  of 
the  next.  I  ought  to  have  profited  by  the  departure  of  M.  de 
Savigny ; '  but  he  was  in  such  melancholy  haste,  that  I  had  no 
means  of  so  doing.  There  is  one  person  whom  I  shall  never 
forget,  and  that  is  M.  Radowitz.  How  far  he  was  from  fore- 
seeing the  rapid  succession  of  events  which  is  bearing  us  on  in 
the  same  old  way !  But  in  these  times  it  is  the  good  minds  and 
the  jiure  hearts  which  do  not  divine  the  future. 

1  M.  de  Savigny,  a  Frenchman  by  birth,  and  one  of  the  most  learned 
men  in  Berlin. 


314  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCniNE. 

It  was  more  than  sympathy  —  it  was  profound  attach- 
ment —  with  which  Donoso  Cortes  inspired  Mme.  Swet- 
chine ;  and  he  was  never  more  fully  and  freely  eloquent 
than  in  her  presence. 

Donoso  Cortes  was  in  his  fiftieth  year  when  he  was  ex- 
changed from  the  emhassy  of  Berlin  to  that  of  Paris, 
under  the  title  of  Marquis  of  Valdegamas.  The  salon  of 
Mme.  Swetchine  was  one  of  the  first  in  which  he  took  on 
that  grand  French  naturalization,  attested  by  so  many  re- 
grets at  the  fatal,  and,  alas !  rapidly  approaching  hour  of 
his  death.  Type  of  the  ardor  of  the  South,  quick  in  his 
impressions,  impetuous  in  his  gestures,  Donoso  Cortes 
glided  easily  from  the  freedom  and  naivete  of  the  most  in- 
timate conversation  to  the  loftiest  flights  of  philosophic 
thought.  It  was  in  Mme.  Swetchine's  drawing-room  that 
he  was  pleased  to  describe  the  circumstances  of  his  return 
to  the  Catholic  faith  ;  and  this  story,  verified  by  the  mov- 
ing accents  of  his  voice,  left  so  deep  an  impression  on  the 
mind  of  his  hearers,  that  one  of  them  conceived  the  desire 
of  preserving  the  confession  in  writing ;  and  this  souvenir 
will  constitute  one  of  the  most  affecting  pages  of  the  biog- 
raphy of  Donoso  Cortes:1 — 

"I  had  arrived  at  middle  life,"  said  Donoso  Cortes,  one  even- 
ing, at  the  salon  of  Mme.  Swetchine;  "and  the  reading  of 
French  works,  following  on  that  of  Latin  authors,  had  destroyed 
my  belief  in  Christianity :  still  I  considered  myself  one  of  the 
most  honest  of  men.  I  accompanied  the  Queen  Christina  to 
Paris,  and  there  became  acquainted  with  a  Spaniard,  Don 

Manuel He  was  a  simple-minded  man ;   upright,  not 

at  all  brilliant,  very  religious,  and  devoted  to  good  works.  I 
watched  him,  and  said  to  myself,  '  It  is  strange !  I  am  certainly 
an  honest  man ;  Don  Manuel  is  an  honest  man :  but  his  honesty 

1  It  is  Count  de  Bois-le-Comte  to  whom  we  owe  the  editing  of  this 
document,  from  which  I  borrow  only  the  principal  circumstances. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  315 

is  different  from  mine.  There  is  something  in  his  honesty 
which  I  cannot  account  for,  and  which,  I  think,  renders  it  supe- 
rior to  mine.  Whence  conies  it  ? '  I  mentioned  it  to  Don 
Manuel  himself.  He  replied,  with  simplicity,  '  I  am  a  Christian, 
and  you  are  not.'  The  remark  struck  me  :  I  often  thought  of 
it ;  but  I  had  not  quite  made  it  out,  when  my  brother  fell  ill  at 
Madrid.  I  hurried  to  Spain  ;  and,  when  I  arrived,  I  found  his 
situation  very  dangerous.  Once,  when  I  was  nursing  him,  I 
repeated  my  conversation  with  Don  Manuel.  '  Yes,1  said  he, 
'  he  gave  you  the  true  reason.'  He  then  explained  the  remark ; 
and  what  he  said  touched  me  so  deeply,  that,  when  he  died,  a 
few  days  later,  I  thought  more  of  his  confessor,  whom  he  be- 
queathed to  me,  than  of  his  fortune."  One  of  those  present 
remarked,  "  Certainly,  M.  1'Ambassadeur,  it  was  by  God's  great 
mercy  that  you  were  so  suddenly  enlightened  when  you  had  not 
thought  to  seek  for  light.  Was  there  any  peculiar  circumstance 
in  your  life  through  which  you  might  be  said  to  have  deserved 
such  a  favor  ?  "  —  "  I  do  not  recall  any,"  replied  Donoso  Cortes : 
"my  life  has  been  very  commonplace.  Yet  perhaps  one  feel- 
ing of  mine  has  been  pleasing  to  God.  I  have  never  regarded 
the  poor  man  who  sat  at  my  gate  as  any  other  than  my 
brother." 

The  death  of  Donoso  Cortes  caused  a  sad  sensation 
throughout  Paris ;  and  the  edifying  details  of  his  illness 
will  not  soon  fade  from  the  memory  of  Christians.  Sister 
Rosalie  and  Mme.  Svvetchine  lavished  their  care  upon  him  ; 
and  the  latter,  excusing  herself  to  a  friend  for  having  de- 
layed to  write,  thus  alluded  to  this  irreparable  loss :  "  For- 
give me !  my  eyes  are  out  of  practice.  At  my  age,  they 
can  only  weep." 

Meanwhile  political  events  in  France  were  advancing 
toward  a  new  crisis.  On  the  one  hand,  attempts  were  be- 
ing made  to  club  together  all  the  monarchical  forces,  under 
the  auspices  of  the  conciliated  House  of  Bourbon ;  on  the 
other,  there  were  preparations  to  escape  the  dangers  of  a 
renewal  of  republican  sway,  by  a  Napoleonic  dictatorship, 
the  precursor  of  a  second  Empire.  The  situation  was  fully 
revealed  during  the  grave  debates  which  followed  a  propo- 
sition for  the  uniform  revision  of  the  republican  Coustitu- 


316  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

tion.     These  last  accents  of  the  tribune  deeply  moved  the 
soul  of  Mme.  Swetchine. 

TO  THE  DUCHESS  DE  ROUCHEFOUCAULD. 

PARIS,  1851. 

...  As  for  Berryer,  it  seems  to  me  impossible  to  deny  that 
he  surpassed  himself.  There  was  a  concentrated  splendor  in  his 
words  ;  a  summing-up  of  all  the  elements  which  constitute  the 
orator.  It  was  that  might  of  genius  which  all  obeyed  in  the 
ages  of  antiquity.  The  speech  of  Berryer  might  have  created 
a  people,  as  Amphion  built  cities. 

At  the  very  time  when  silence  was  about  to  fall  upon 
the  realm  of  politics,  private  sorrow  invaded  the  heart  of 
Mme.  Swetchine  on  every  hand.  She  had  recently  lost 
the  Countess  Edling.  The  Countess  de  Nesselrode  was 
suddenly  removed  in  the  summer  of  1849.  In  the  midst 
of  the  most  overwhelming  grief,  Countess  Chreptowitch 
thought  at  once  of  her  second  mother ;  and,  by  her  tender 
forethought,  a  friend  was  despatched  with  the  tidings  to 
Vichy,  where  Mme.  Swetchine  was  at  that  time  taking  the 
waters.  On  the  very  evening  previous,  she  had  received 
a  letter  from  her  friend,  who,  when  she  wrote,  was  in  per- 
fect health.  She  therefore  made  light  of  all  the  anxiety 
which  the  messenger  endeavored  to  awaken  in  her  mind, 
and  was  crushed  by  the  truth  when  it  was  at  length  made 
known.  She  let  fall  only  these  words,  in  a  low  voice,  in- 
terrupted by  sobs :  "  Taken  away  suddenly !  like  my 
father  !  like  my  father ! "  Paroxysms  of  heart-rending 
grief  continued  to  recur  at  brief  intervals.  A  blow  no  less 
sudden  struck  down  General  Swetchine,  before  the  very 
eyes  of  his  wife,  on  the  23d  of  November,  1850. 

General  Swetchine  was  ninety-two  years  old  when  he 
was  smitten  by  an  attack  of  apoplexy,  at  eight  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  There  had  been  no  premonitory  symptoms, 


LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  317 

and  Mme.  Swetchine  had  just  commenced  reading  aloud  to 
him  the  contents  of  the  morning  paper. 

The  General  was  a  venerable  old  man.  His  face  wore 
a  serene  and  constant  expression  of  perfect  goodness.  He 
loved  his  wife  devotedly,  and  spoke  of  her  always  with  the 
most  tender  veneration.  Mme.  Swetchine  responded  by 
an' affection  full  of  respect,  and  by  unwearying  care.  If 
their  minds  were  not  on  a  level,  their  hearts  were  equal  in 
delicacy  and  generosity.  The  General  was  finely  educated. 
He  read  much,  and  told  a  story  well ;  and,  in  his  unpre- 
tending conversation,  bonkommie  was  pointed  by  keen  good 
sense.  During  the  last  fifteen  years  of  his  life,  excessive 
deafness  kept  him  from  his  wife's  drawing-room  at  the 
hours  when  it  was  invaded  by  the  world.  It  was  painful 
to  him  not  to  hear  conversations,  which  he  would  not  have 
consented  to  interrupt  by  calling  the  attention  of  the 
interlocutors  to  his  own  infirmity.  Mme.  Swetchine  would 
then  have  closed  her  doors:  but  to  this  he  opposed  the 
most  strenuous  resistance ;  and,  for  several  years,  he  com- 
pelled himself  to  pass  an  hour  or  two  in  the  drawing-room 
each  evening,  taking  no  part  in  whatever  passed  there, 
but  showing  extreme  politeness  to  every  guest,  that  he 
might  dissipate,  by  this  apparent  community  of  interests, 
the  scruples  of  Mme.  Swetchine. 

The  General  walked  a  great  deal,  inspecting  minutely 
all  the  monuments  and  public  works  of  Paris,  and  liked 
to  witness  the  experiments  and  exhibitions  of  every  new 
branch  of  industry.  He  received  the  most  assiduous  care 
from  one  of  his  old  aides-de-camp,  M.  de  Tiran,  who  thus 
testified  his  gratitude  for  hospitality  long  ago  shown  him 
at  St.  Petersburg ;  and,  finally,  he  had  a  lured  reader,  who 
kept  him  informed  in  all  recent  publications,  and  whose 
place  Mine.  Swetchine  herself  took  for  two  or  three  hours 


818  LIFE   OF   MADASfE    SWETCHINE. 

each  day,  however  ill  and  weary  she  might  be.  The 
General  shared  his  wife's  sentiments  toward  all  the  friends 
with  whom  she  was  really  intimate,  and  was  particularly 
attached  to  Father  Ravignan  and  Father  Lacordaire ;  but 
he  never  manifested  the  slightest  doubt  of  Russian  Ortho- 
doxy, or  intention  of  going  over  to  the  Latin  Church. 
His  sudden  death  was  a  thunderbolt  to  Mme.  Swetchine. 
The  first  outburst  of  her  grief  was  heart-rending.  She 
refused  to  believe  in  her  misfortune ;  and  the  physician 
feigned  efforts,  which  he  knew  to  be  useless,  in  order  to 
give  her  time  to  recover  her  self-command.  The  first  of 
her  friends  who  hastened  to  the  spot  found  her  upon  -  her 
knees  beside  the  lifeless  body  of  the  General,  her  frame 
rent  by  convulsive  sobs.  It  was  only  by  kneeling  beside 
her,  and  by  repeated  supplications,  that  they  succeeded  in 
winning  her  attention,  and  leading  her  away  to  her  own 
room.  The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  burying  the  General 
in  the  little  cemetery  of  Montmartre  were  surmounted ; 
and  scarcely  a  month  elapsed  without  her  visiting  her 
husband's  tomb,  accompanied  only  by  Parisse.  She  would 
remain  there  for  a  long  time  in  prayer ;  and  more  than 
once,  when  she  arose,  she  indicated,  by  a  gesture  to  her 
mute  companion,  the  place  where  she  desired  one  day  to 
rest  beside  him.  It  was  a  great  comfort  to  her  to  pro- 
nounce his  name,  and  dwell  on  his  memory.  A  touching 
example  of  her  devotion  is  contained  in  the  following 
words,  written  from  Vichy,  to  the  Duchess  de  Rouche- 
foucauld,  on  the  summer  after  the  General's  death :  — 

August,  1861. 

.  .  .  Thanks,  my  dearest,  for  your  kind  letter,  which  came  in 
place  of  the  farewell  visit  you  should  have  paid  me  before  you 
left  Paris,  and  did  me  a  great  deal  of  good.  Every  thing 
sounds  better  in  solitude  when  all  are  preparing  to  depart. 
There  is  indeed  something  solemn  in  every  adieu ;  and  the 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  319 

same  may  be  said  of  returns,  —  of  those  at  least  which  place 
you  between  two  dates,  as  in  a  frame  which  incloses  all  sorrow. 
Two  years  ago,  I  learned  in  this  place  the  death  of  .Mine,  de 
Nesselrode  ;  and  this  year  I  come  alone.  Some  poignant  and 
heart-rending  memory  is  awakened  at  every  step.  1  dwell 
within  the  same  walls ;  but  I  cannot  leave  my  chamber  without 
pausing  before  a  door  which  opens  for  me  no  more.  It  is  just 
the  same  as  at  Paris.  I  have  escaped  nothing.  A  deep-seated 
grief  defies  all  external  influences. 

Many  now  comprehended,  for  the  first  time,  the  place 
which  General  Swetchine  had  occupied  in  the  life  of  his 
wife.  For  herself,  she  more  and  more  earnestly  besought 
of  God  himself  to  fill  the  cruel  void  left  by  that  departure. 
Until  now,  she  had  suppressed  her  longing  for  retirement, 
because  she  would  not  leave  her  husband.  From  this 
time,  she  systematically  encouraged  it.  She  curtailed  year 
by  year  her  hours  for  reception,  prolonged  her  residence  in 
the  country,  and  consecrated  the  months  of  October  and 
November  to  an  almost  absolute  seclusion  in  one  of  the 
convents  of  Paris.  She  preferred,  above  all  others,  a  house 
of  the  Augustine  nuns,  where  the  view  from  her  modest 
chamber  recalled  some  of  the  wide  prospects,  crowded  with 
religious  associations,  which  she  had  enjoyed  so  much  at 
Rome. 

A  last  and  unlooked-for  sorrow  still  awaited  Mme. 
Swetchine,  in  the  brief  collision  between  France  and  Rus- 
sia. "  For  the  rest  of  the  world,"  she  often  said,  "  it  is 
war :  for  me,  it  is  civil  war."  Her  grief  was  keenest  when 
military  operations  appeared  to  menace  both  Sebastopol 
and  St.  Petersburg:  — 

"This  entrance  of  the  squadron  into  the  Baltic,"  she  wrote 
to  the  Countess  Chreptowitch,  "produces  an  extraordinary 
I'Ht-rt  upon  me.  I  trust  the  country  is  no  more  vulnerable  there 
than  elsewhere  :  but  there  is  the  sky  under  which  I  have  lived ; 
those  are  our  rivers ;  it  is  the  point  with  which  my  idea  of  my 
country  is  most  thoroughly  identified ;  and  I  feel  as  if  they 
were  aiming  at  my  heart." 


320  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Mme.  Swetchine's  mourning  for  the  Emperor  Nicholas 
was  real,  and  not  conventional.  On  the  31st  of  March, 
1855,  she  wrote  to  the  Princess  Mary  of  Baden,  Duchess 
of  Hamilton :  — 

' '  I  had  scarcely  taken  breath  when  there  fell  the  thunderbolt 
of  the  Emperor's  death,  —  crushing  in  its  suddenness,  in  the 
solemnity  of  the  moment,  and  in  the  magnitude  of  the  loss 
which  his  country  sustains.  No  presentiment  of  the  end  of 
that  great  reign  had  crossed  my  mind ;  and  I  certainly  never 
should  have  supposed  that  I  was  destined  to  see,  after  an  inter- 
val of  forty  years,  a  second  Emperor  Alexander  in  conflict  with 
a  second  Emperor  Napoleon.  Every  day  new  details  of  a  more 
solemn  and  affecting  character  reach  us  from  that  death-bed 
which  has  furnished  so  grand  an  example.  The  Emperor  Nicho- 
las's elevation  of  soul  has  been  revealed  to  the  world  in  death, 
as  it  was  revealed  to  himself  on  the  day  of  his  accession." 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCH1NE.  321 


CHAPTER  XVL 

M.  de  Lamartine  and  Count  de  Maistre.  — Correspondence  with  Prince  de 
Broglie  and  Alexis  de  Tocqueville.  — Mme.  Swetchine's  failing  health. 
—  Her  last  visit  to  Fleury. 

SOME  echo  of  the  old  discussions  yet  lingered  in  the 
salon  of  Mme.  Swetchine,  where  faith  and  independ- 
ent thought  still  loved  to  meet.  The  fate  of  our  country 
still  appeared  to  her  the  premonitory  symptom  of  the  fate 
of  Europe ;  and  the  dearest  interests  of  France  were 
almost  always  discussed  along  with  the  dearest  interests 
of  Christianity.  That  unity  and  general  harmony  of 
views,  which  began  with  M.  de  Maistre  and  M.  de  Bonald, 
and  was  continued  in  M.  de  Montalembert  and  Father 
Lacordaire,  was  found  in  different  degrees,  and  under 
varying  conditions,  but  controlled  by  common  principles, 
which  served  as  a  connecting  link,  in  almost  all  her  con- 
stant visitors,  —  MM.  d'Eckstein,  Auguste  Nicolas,  de 
Carne,  de  Ca/ales,  Frantz  de  Champagny,  de  Corcelles, 
d'Esgrigny,  Louis  Moreau,1  Bonetti,  Rio,  and  Turquety. 
One  of  those  who  were  most  widely  separated  from  Mme. 
Swetchine  in  intellectual  tendency,  never  failed  to  render 
her  a  sincere  and  respectful  homage  ;  and  that  was  M.  de 
Lamartiue.  They  saw  little  of  one  another,  but  they  often 
came  into  indirect  contact.  Mme.  Swetchine,  who  never 


1  M.  Moreau,  the  translator  of  Augustine's  Confessions  and  the  City 
of  God,  was  very  much  in  the  confidence  of  Mme.  Swetchine;  and  we 
owe  him  many  precious  communications. 

21 


322  LIFE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

could  disguise  her  thought,  did  not  conceal  from  M.  de 
Lamartine  the  points  of  difference,  which  it  would  be  need- 
less to  dwell  on  here ;  nevertheless,  she  had  the  art  of 
giving  such  an  intonation  to  reproach  and  complaint,  that 
the  friends  of  M.  de  Lamartine,  and  even  his  wife,  who 
was  intimate  with  Mme.  Swetchine,  were  always  able  to 
hear,  her.  :  •  :  . 

44 -Although  I  am  one  of  those  who  are  most  on  their 
guard  against  the  idolatry  of  genius,"  wrote  Mme.  Swet- 
chine to  Mme.  de  Lamartine,  "I  must  needs  recognize  in  M. 
de  Lamartine  an  immense  power  to  do  me  good  or  harm." 

One  of  these  wounds  at  least  will  be  regretted  by  none ; 
for  to  its  infliction  we  owe  the  ensuing  pages,  where  Count 
de  Maistre,  suddenly  evoked  by  avenging  friendship,  re- 
appears among  the  last  emotions  of  Mme.  Swetchine,  —  as 
vivid  a  presence  as  on  the  day  when  he  first  sat  by  her 
fireside. 

M.  de  Lamartine  had  traced  in  his  "  Confidences "  a 
sketch  of  the  writings  and  character  of  Count  de  Maistre. 
Mme.  Swetchine  transcribes  some  passages,  and  refutes 
them  thus :  — 

M.  de  Lamartine  says,  that  he  saw  much  of  M.  de 
Maistre.  The  number  of  the  sittings  makes  it  the  more  sur- 
prising that  the  portrait  should  be  such  an  utter  failure.  No 
separate  feature  is  faithfully  exact,  or  even  recognizable ;  still 
less  the  countenance  as  a  whole. 

"  The  brothers  of  Count  de  Maistre  —  and  the  same  might 
be  said  of  himself — were  in  earnest  only  where  God's  honor 
was  concerned." 

Count  de  Maistre  was  in  earnest  about  ever)'  thing  which 
touched  his  own  honor,  or  even  seemed  to  do  so.  Devoted  as 
he  was  to  the  honor  of  the  Church,  which  the  divine  promise 
has  made  par  excellence  the  honor  of  God,  he  was  so  thor- 
oughly a  gentleman,  that,  in  any  given  case,  it  would  have 
gone  hard  with  him  not  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  that  fantas- 
tic human  honor  which  has  been  so  aptly  called  the  supersti- 
tion of  virtue. 


LIFE   OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  323 

"  Count  de  Maistre  was  a  man  of  great  height  and  a 
handsome,  manly  countenance." 

Count  de  Maistre  was  of  medium  height,  and  his  features 
were  very  irregular.  There  was  nothing  piercing  about  his  eye, 
and  extreme  short-sightedness  rendered  its  glance  somewhat 
meaningless.  Yet  that  irregular  and  by  np  means  handsome 
face  was  full  of  majesty.  The  ensemble,  the  carriage  of  the  Head, 
was  striking,  and  stamped  with  a  character  of  antique  wisdom. 

"He  knew  nothing  save  from  books,  and  of  these  he  had 
read  few." 

Where  did  M.  de  Lamartine  learn  that  M.  de  Maistre  was 
a  small  reader  ?  I  knew  him  well  long  before  M.  de  Lamar- 
tine did  so  ;  and  I  have  seen  him  for  years  habitually  devoting 
to  study  twelve  and  fifteen  hours  in  the  day ;  and,  of  these, 
reading  had  its  full  share.  M.  de  Maistre  was  an  immense 
reader.  His  table  was  loaded  and  piled  with  books.  From 
his  earliest  vears,  he  had  been  preparing  himself  thus  to  era- 
ploy  the  leisure  of  his  age  by  studying  the  classics  as  they 
were  studied  by  the  great  minds  of  the  seventeenth  century ; 
an  education  singularly  adapted  to  the  formation  of  strong 
and  sound  minds.  The  career  of  a  magistrate,  for  which  M. 
de  Maistre  was  destined,  imposed  upon  him  equally  serious 
labors ;  and  the  invincible  bent  of  his  genius  made  it  a  duty 
for  him,  not  merely  to  study  religion  in  its  origin,  but  to  sound 
the  depths  of  theology,  and  to  add  to  his  acquisitions  the  most 
arduous  results  of  ecclesiastical  science.  Placed  in  the  door- 
way between  two  countries,  his  ear  was  familiar  with  both  their 
languages ;  and  two  literatures  were  national  for  M.  de 
Maistre.  The  Italian,  which  was  not  his  preference,  was  de- 
frauded of  none  of  its  rights.  Long  experience  of  its  beauties 
kept  them  fresh  in  the  mind  of  M.  de  Maistre ;  and  side  by 
side  with  what  all  the  world  reads  and  admires,  and  which  he, 
better  than  any  other,  knew  how  to  read  and  admire,  his 
memory  hoarded  a  thousand  unsuspected  treasures,  — -pearls 
discovered  or  rescued  from  oblivion  by  himself.  As  for  French 
literature,  it  shared  to  the  full  his  predilection  for  every  thing 
French,  —  a  predilection  more  decided  than  he  acknowledged, 
and  which  betrayed  itself  in  severe  criticism,  no  less  than  in 
passionate  eulogium.  Racine,  Montaigne,  Molitire,  La  Fon- 
taine, and  Corneille  were  ever  on  his  lips.  He  had  mid  and 
retained  every  thing  of  Voltaire's,  not  excepting  those  produc- 
tions which  are  seldom  acknowledged.  Talent  to  some  ex- 
tent modified,  or  at  least  disarmed  him.  There  was  about  him 
something  of  that  savant  whom  the  world  has  come  to  toK'rati- 
under  cover  of  Horace.  He  could  not  quite  resist  the  prestige 
of  Rousseau's  eloquence. 


324  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

" His  was  a  brutish  soul,  hut  a  mighty  one;  an  intellect 
uncultured,  but  vast ;  a  style  rude,  but  strong." 

What  means  the  expression  "brutish  soul,"  as  applied  to 
M.  de  Maistre?  A  soul  nourished  in  Christianity,  devoted 
to  family  affections,  displaying  in  the  domestic  circle  a  charming 
grace  and  sweetness,  sensitive  to  all  the  refinements  of  friend- 
ship, elevating  the  duties  of  the  subject  to  the  height  of  the 
most  noble  and  loyal  sentiments, — this,  then,  is  "a  brutish 
soul"!  Doubtless  M.  de  Maistre  resisted  the  ideas  and  im- 
pulses of  his  time.  It  was  the  courage  of  sincerity,  as  M.  de 
Laniartine  says,  which  gave  and  preserved  to  him  that  mar- 
vellous originality  of  style,  which,  though  formed  by  antiquity, 
his  first  master,  and  the  grand  models  which  he  ever  followed, 
yet  owed  nothing  to  imitation. 

."  Thus,  absorbed  in  self,  all  his  philosophy  was  but  the 
theory  of  his  religious  instincts." 

I  would  sooner  admit  that  recognized  truth  gave  the  law 
to  his  instincts  and  tendencies,  and  that  he  appealed  first  of 
all  to  his  intellect.  Obedience  and  reverence  from  childhood 
up  had  impressed  upon  his  mind  the  grand  outlines  of  God's 
law.  Arrived  at  an  age  to  appreciate  the  divine  wisdom,  all 
its  splendors  burst  at  once  upon  his  view.  Answering  all  the 
demands  of  his  reason,  satisfying  all  the  needs  of  his  genius, 
the  Catholic  religion  was,  for  him,  in  a  constant  state  of  living 
demonstration  ;  and  never  perhaps  has  Catholicism  exercised  a 
more  grand  and  absolute  sway.  Faith  had  so  far  become  the 
second  nature  of  his  mind,  that  he  could  not  conscientiously 
admit  any  thing  in  scepticism,  except  ignorance,  narrowness, 
ill-will,  or  a  mysterious  chastisement.  With  him  the  idea  was 
supreme ;  and  it  brought  into  subjection  a  heart  more  honora- 
ble and  upright  than  naturally  pious. 

"  He  made  dogmas  of  his  prejudices." 

If  we  would  leave  a  shadow  of  truth  to  the  words  of  M.  de 
Laniartine,  we  must  reverse  them,  and  say  that  he  was  so  pro- 
foundly convinced  of  the  truth  of  the  dogmas  which  his  con- 
science obeyed,  that  he  was  not  perhaps  sufficiently  free  from 
certain  prejudices,  but  extended  his  submission  to  principles 
which  were  pushed  to  their  utmost  consequences  by  virtue  of 
a  logic  whose  extreme  rigor  was  not  of  this  world. 

i  VICHY,  June  3, 1851. 

1  M.  de  Lamartine  will  certainly  be  the  first  to  applaud  this  chival- 
rous protest.  Perhaps  he  has  learned  the  fact  of  its  existence,  or  at 
least  suspected  it.  Two  of  the  recent  numbers  of  the  "  Cours  de  Littera- 
ture  "  are  devoted  to  M.  de  Maistre.  Many  of  the  features  of  his  portrait 
are  there  softened  or  modified*  These  modifications  have  decided  me  to 


LIFK    OF   MADAME   SWETCHTNE.  325 

Unlike  in  their  ages,  their  careers,  and  their  habits,  but 
drawn  together  by  a  common  tendency  of  mind  and  genius, 
Alexis  de  Tocqueville  and  Prince  Albert  de  Broglie  be- 
came the  friends  of  Mme.  Swetchine  in  her  last  hour. 
Their  letters  have  been  preserved  with  equal  care,  and,  so 
to  speak,  in  the  same  envelope.  They  will  attest,  better 
than  any  other  argument,  what  were  the  thoughts  and 
wishes  which  allured  this  great  soul,  even  to  the  end. 
Addressing  to  Mme.  Swetchine  an  article  which  he  had 
just  published  under  the  title  of  "Le  Moyen  Age  et 
1'Eglise  Catholique," 1  Prince  de  Broglie  wrote  in  Novem- 
ber, 1852:  — 

BROGLIE,  Nov.  9, 1852. 

MADAME,  —  I  have  tried  to  confess  my  faith  without  slander- 
ing my  time.  Can  it  be  done  ?  I  believe  it  can ;  and,  moreover, 
I  believe  that  this  is,  in  the  end,  the  only  rational  thing  to  do. 
All  other  expedients  appear  to  me  only  fleeting  flashes  of 
re-action,  which,  if  we  do  not  take  care,  will  soon  leave  us  in  an 
intellectual  night  more  profound  than  that  from  which  we  have 
emerged.  Donoso  Cortes,  who  kindly  wrote  me  a  letter  on  his 
article,  concludes  that  the  difference  between  us  is,  that  I 
believe,  in  a  possible  marriage  between  modern  society  and  the 
Catholic  Church,  and  that  he  does  not  believe  in  it.  I  accept 
this  definition  of  our  difference  ;  and  I  said  to  him  in  reply,  that, 
without  overrating  modern  society,  I  believed  our  Lord  could 
sit  at  its  table  as  well  as  at  that  of  the  publican's,  or  the  marriage 
in  Cana.  BUOGLIE. 

TO  PRINCE  ALBERT   DE  BROGLIE. 

Nov.  11, 1862. 
MY  DEAR  PRINCE, — The  disposition  to   see  nothing  but 

suppress  the  last  paragraph  of  Mine.  Swetchine's  work.  She  protests 
with  great  vehemence  against  the  expressions,  "  Bossuet  sauvage," 
'•  Tertullian  illettre."  M.  de  Lamartme  has  substituted  the  epithet, 
"  Bossuet  laic." 

1  Le  Moyen  Age  et  1'Eglise  Catholique.  I.  Sermons  preached  in 
1851,  by  Father  Ventura.  II.  Catholicism,  Liberalism,  and  Socialism,  by 
Donoso  Cortes.  III.  The  Undying  Worm  of  Modern  Kducatinn,  and 
Letters  to  Mgr.  d'Orleans,  by  the  Abbe"  Gaume.  —  Reeue  des  Deux 
Mvudes,  Nov.  1,  1852. 


326  LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

evil  in  the  present,  without  looking  at  its  uppermost  and  provi- 
dential aspect,  is  especially  faulty,  as  I  think,  in  pushing  its 
conclusions  too  far.  It  is  logic  carried  to  extremes,  and,  in  con- 
sequence, is  often  our  best  ally.  What  surprises  me  is,  that 
it  seems  to  cost  us  so  little  to  pronounce  an  irrevocable  sentence 
of  condemnation,  and  to  see  ourselves  irresistibly  drawn  into 
an  abyss.  It  reminds  one  of  Fontenelle.  "My  mother,"  said 
he  "  was  a  quietist.  She  used  to  say  to  me,  '  My  son,  you  will 
be  damned ; '  but  it  did  not  trouble  her."  I  must  acknowledge, 
that,  if  I  could  see  our  terrible  judges  a  little  unhappy  over  our 
misfortunes,  1  should  be  better  pleased.  However,  I  suspect 
that  these  hypotheses  are  not  entirely  serious  in  their  nature, 
and  that  possibly  we  re-assure  ourselves  from  time  to  time,  by 
an  unexpressed  disavowal.  Doubtless  there  are  many  excep- 
tions; and,  if  I  could  make  but  one,  it  would  be  in  favor  of 
Donoso  Cortes.  I  have  never  known  a  man  whose  moral  dis- 
position appeared  to  me  more  utterly  at  variance  with  the 
movement  of  his  thought ;  so  that,  when  you  dissent  from  his 
opinion,  the  effect  is  singular:  you  seem  in  some  sort  to  be 
approaching  him  as  fast  as  you  recede.  S.  SWETCHINE. 


TO  PRINCE  ALBERT   DE  BROGLIE. 

PARIS,  Nov.  Iff,  1852. 

MY  DEAR  PRINCE,  — ...  If  too  many  of  the  books  of  to- 
day are  made  up  of  the  ideas  of  yesterday,  your  article  on  the 
contrary,  my  dear  Prince,  is  evidently  the  resume  of  protracted 
studies.  On  every  page  you  are  seen  to  have  assimilated 
your  convictions ;  and  the  thorough  familiarity  with  the  question, 
which  arises  from  your  having  allowed  your  thought  to  examine 
all  sides  of  it,  brings  every  faculty  of  your  mind  into  play.  I 
have  here  given  you  my  own  estimate  merely ;  but,  apart  from 
all  this,  you  may  rely  on  the  absolute  justice  of  the  impression 
left  on  my  mind,  by  so  many  utterances  of  deep  and  living  faith, 
in  the  secret  moral  power  of  the  Church,  in  her  supernatural 
action,  and  in  her  incomparable  ability  to  transform  rather  than 
destroy.  Never  have  the  accents  of  your  faith  seemed  to  me 
so  penetrating,  so  irresistibly  persuasive.  This,  my  dear 
prince,  is  what  gives  an  inestimable  value  to  your  moderation, 
and  constitutes  its  corrective  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  are 
slightly  scared  by  its  unaccustomed  flavor.  The  unanimous 
vote,  even  of  one's  own  party,  is  no  longer  a  thing  to  be  ob- 
tained :  but,  parties  aside,  1  have  no  doubt  that  you  have  acted 
on  many  scattered  intellects,  whom  you  have  put  in  tune  with 
themselves  and  silently  reclaimed ;  a  species  of  success  which 
seems  to  me  to  await  an  order  of  ideas  without  interests  to  up- 


LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE  327 

hold  or  positive  ends  to  gain,  and  whose  great  advantage, 
especially  in  our  day,  is  to  soften  in  many  ways  the  re-action 
which  it  is  only  reasonable  to  dread.  S.  SWETCHINIS. 

TO   MME.    SWETCHIKE. 

BROGLIE,  Nov.  22, 1852. 

...  If  I  may  trust  the  letters  I  receive,  I  have  this  time  had 
the  good  fortune  to  be  better  understood.  I  attribute  the 
change  to  our  successive  revolutions,  which  have  taught  me  a 
better  mode  of  expression,  and,  it  may  be  also,  my  audience 
a  better  mode  of  hearing.  The  friction  of  great  events  inevi- 
tably wears  away  the  angles  of  opinion.  I  see  people  every- 
where, who,  to  their  own  great  astonishment,  do  not  take  as 
great  a  delight  as  formerly  in  mutual  recrimination.  I  have 
forgotten  who  it  is  that  says,  we  must  take  care  not  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  our  enemies,  or  we  shall  have  no  more 
comfort  m  hating  them !  The  truth  in  my  own  case  is,  that, 
naturally  headstrong,  I  have  acquired  the  moderation  which 
you  over-rate  in  me,  only  through  the  happy  accident  which 
early  led  me  to  examine  opposing  ideas,  each  under  its  most 
favorable  aspect.  As  to  Protestantism  and  Liberalism,  I  have 
never  been  able  to  consider  the  Protestants  and  Liberals  whom 
I  have  known,  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  truants,  who  have 
made  the  mistake  of  wanting  to  fly  from  the  paternal  home ;  the 
one  from  fundamental  Christian  doctrine,  the  other  from  its 
social  consequences.  I  have  always  aspired,  and,  for  my  own 
part,  have  always  been  able,  to  find  in  Catholicism  all  that 
struck  me  as  true  and  good  in  other  opinions.  This  character 
of  universal  truth,  comprising  all  the  fragments  of  truth  which 
exist  elsewhere,  is  all  that  encourages  one  to  enter  the  arena 
of  discussion  in  the  name  of  the  Catholic  Church.  There  is  no 
end  possible  to  human  debates,  because  each  man  holds  a  frag- 
ment of  truth,  and  stabs  his  adversary  with  its  keen  point. 
But  Catholicism  contains  all  the  virtues  which  men  would  fain 
employ  against  her.  All  that  concerns  her  in  polemics  is  to 
show  to  every  man  the  aspect  of  truth  most  striking  to  him,  and 
not  that  with  which  he  is  least  in  sympathy.  Why  has  modern 
controversy  habitually  taken  the  opposite  course  ? 

BKOGLJE. 

TO  MME.  SWETCHINE. 

TKOUVILLE,  Aug.  9, 1864. 

DEAR  MADAME.  — ...  Men  are  for  ever  trying  to  make 
peace  between  philosophy  and  religion ;  but  it  is  always  a 


328  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

peace  patched  up  with  equivocations.  Every  one  withholds 
half  his  thought,  for  fear  of  contradicting  the  other.  I  am  not 
very  partial  to  this  arrangement,  because  I  do  not  believe  it 
can  be  very  durable.  It  seems  to  me  possible  to  go  deeper, 
and  succeed  better.  The  question  I  would  put  to  philosophy 
is  this  :  ' '  Do  you  believe  yourself  sufficient  ?  Speak  out  plainly 
for  once,  yes  or  no !  If  yes,  we  cannot  agree ;  for,  if  philosophy 
is  sufficient,  revelation  is  useless.  In  the  words  of  Dante,  — 

"  Le  potessi  capir  tutto 
Non  fu  mestier  di  partorir  Maria."  * 

But,  if  no,  then  a  peace  is  possible.  As  soon  as  humanity 
doubts  its  own  self-sufficiency,  the  door  is  open  to  religion.  I 
should  have  liked  to  say  something  on  this  head. 

BROGLIE. 

TO  PRDfCE  DE  BROGLIE. 

FLEURY,  Sept.  30,  1856. 

...  It  would  indeed  be  pleasant  to  see  united  in  one  con- 
sistent whole  all  that  deserves  our  partial  approbation,  and  to 
behold  the  concentration  of  so  much  unutilized  force ;  but  let 
us  say  for  our  own  consolation,  that,  when  a  thing  does  not 
waste,  it  gathers,  and  that  there  is  one  thing  more  important 
than  action,  and  that  is  growth. 

I  have  long  delayed  to  tell  you  of  the  perfect  satisfaction  1 
derived  from  your  reply  to  M.  Simon.  It  ranges  you  among 
those  defenders  of  the  truth  who  have  learned  to  love  her  more 
by  fighting  her  battles.  You  grow  better  by  success.  Thank 
God  lor  it !  This  effort  of  yours,  which  might  have  been  so 
barren,  is  rendered,  by  its  spirit  and  its  affecting  language,  — 
at  once  firm  and  tender,  —  a  sign  of  sensible  progress  in  the 
Christian  faith. 

S.  SWETCHINE. 

The  correspondence  with  M.  de  Tocqueville  commences 
at  about  the  same  date. 


1  The  complete  text  is  as  follows :  — 

"  Stati  contenti,  umana  gente,  al  quia, 
Che,  se  potato  sueste  veder  tutto, 
Mestier  non  era  partorir  Maria." 

DAXTE:  Puryatorio,  Canto  in. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  329 


TO  MME.   SWETCHINE. 

TOCQUEVILLE,  July  28,  1855. 

.  .  .  Although  I  left  Paris  two  months  ago,  it  is  only  about 
three  weeks  since  I  arrived  here.  It  is  very  sweet,  after  a  long 
exile,  to  find  myself  once  more  in  this  place.  This  little  nook, 
apart  from  its  intrinsic  charms,  is  crowded  for  me  with  remi- 
niscences of  many  of  the  best  years  of  my  life.  That  invisiiiln 
part  of  myself  which  pervades  all  surrounding  objects  gives 
them  a  peculiarly  touching  aspect  which  no  other  would  per- 
ceive. These  trees,  these  fields,  this  ocean  view,  are  wholly 
unlike  aught  that  I  see  elsewhere. 

We  have  thought  much  of  you,  Mine,  de  Tocqueville  and  I, 
during  the  varying  fortunes  of  the  war.  We  could  understand 
the  conflicting  emotions  which  such  a  spectacle  must  excite  in  a 
soul  like  yours,  so  apt  to  admit  all  loving  sentiments,  so  utterly 
a  stranger  to  the  enmities  which  distract  mankind.  Alas  !  there 
seems  no  reason  to  believe  that  these  public  and  private  sor- 
rows are  near  their  end.  I  rather  fear  that  the  scourge  of 
famine  is  soon  to  be  added  to  that  of  war.  In  any  event,  the 
winter  must  be  very  hard  for  the  poor ;  and  those  who  have 
means  must  resolve  to  make  extraordinary  sacrifices  this  year 
for  the  relief  of  others.  I  must  confess  that  I  do  not  expect 
all  to  do  this.  The  succession  of  bad  years,  instead  of  stimulat- 
ing charity  to  greater  activity,  seems  to  have  worn  her  out. 
We  so  soon  become  used  to  the  thought  of  want  which  we  do 
not  feel,  that  an  evil  which  grows  greater  to  the  sufferer  the 
longer  it  lasts,  becomes  less  to  the  observer  by  the  very  fact  of 
its  duration.  *  And  then  the  ties  which  should  bind  the  dif- 
ferent classes  together  are  strangely  loosened  by  revolutions. 

Were  you  not,  like  me,  madame,  astonished  to  see  that  a 
nation  apparently  so  devoid  of  public  virtue  could  produce  an 
army  so  replete  with  it?  So  much  selfishness  here,  so  much 
self-devotion  there !  It  is  amazing !  I  see  a  peasant  set  forth 
to  join  his  regiment.  He  is  desponding.  Often  he  weeps. 
The  thought  that  he  is  going  to  defend  his  native  land  hardly 
moves  him.  He  thinks  only  of  his  field,  his  little  affairs,  the 
petty  interests  he  is  to  leave  behind.  He  rails  at  the  duty  which 
snatches  him  away  against  his  own  will.  A  year  later,  they 
bring  me  letters  written  by  the  same  man  to  his  family.  He  is 
ready  to  bear  all  in  the  line  of  military  duty.  He  knows  that 
that  duty  is  constantly  and  freely  to  sacrifice  his  comfort  and 
his  life  in  the  interest  of  the  army.  He  found  these  maxima 
and  these  customs  established.  He  adopted  them  with  his  uni- 
form ;  and  with  that  he  will  put  them  oft,  and  return  the  same 
poor  devil  whom  we  knew.  He  will  not  import  into  his  social 


330  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

life  any  of  the  sentiments  which  he  displayed  in  the  army. 
Until  I  reflected  upon  what  takes  place  in  modern  armies,  I 
believed  that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  exaggeration  about  what 
we  read  of  the  public  virtues  of  some  of  the  nations  of  antiquity. 
I  was  positively  unable  to  comprehend  how  man  could  have 
been  capable  of  such  things  in  those  days  ;  for  man  is  always  the 
j>ame.  What  we  daily  see  in  our  own  armies  elucidates  the 
matter.  They  only  did  for  civil  society  what  we  do  for  military 
society.  The  citizens  of  those  days  were  perhaps  no  better 
individually  than  we,  and  in  private  life  they  may  have  been 
worse ;  but,  in  public  life,  they  encountered  an  organization,  a 
discipline,  a  custom,  a  revered  opinion,  and  deep-rooted  tradi- 
tion, which  forced  them  to  act  as  we  do  not. 

I  am  ashamed,  madame,  to  see  how  the  current  of  my  thought 
has  carried  me  away.  Let  the  reflection  that  you  allow  me  to 
write  to  you  as  I  would  talk,  induce  you  to  pardon  this  inop- 
portune dissertation. 


TOCQUEVILLE,  Jan.  7,  1856. 

...  I  will  not  delay  to  thank  you  for  your  last  interesting 
and  affecting  letter.  It  was  an  image  of  yourself.  I  wish  I 
might  deserve  the  kindness  you  show  me ;  for  the  friendship  of 
a  person  like  yourself  imposes  an  obligation.  It  calls  on  us, 
not  merely  to  be  grateful,  but  to  show  ourselves  worthy. 

As  I  progress  in  the  work  in  which  you  are  so  kind  as  to 
feel  an  interest,  I  see  more  and  more  plainly  that  I  am  being 
involved  in  a  current  of  thought  and  feeling,  precisely  contrary 
to  that  by  which  many  of  my  contemporaries  are  carried  away. 
I  continue  to  love  passionately  things  for  which  they  have 
ceased  to  care.  I  regard,  as  I  have  ever  done,  liberty  as  the 
first  of  blessings.  I  continue  to  see  in  it  one  of  the  most  fruit- 
ful sources  of  manly  virtues  and  mighty  deeds.  There  is  no 
degree  of  comfort  or  tranquillity  which  could  console  me  for  its 
loss.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  see  men  of  my  own  time,  and, 
I  may  add,  honest  men,  —  for  I  should  care  little  for  the  opinion 
of  others,  —  who  seem  only  to  think  how  they  can  best  accom- 
modate themselves  to  a  new  regime,  and  (what  troubles  and 
alarms  me  more  than  all)  who  appear  to  make  a  taste  for  servi- 
tude a  kind  of  ingredient  in  their  virtue.  I  would  not  think 
and  feel  as  they  do,  if  I  could.  My  nature,  even  more  than  my 
will,  would  revolt  from  it. 

However,  inadaine,  you  must  not  think  that  the  object  of 
my  book l  has  any  connection,  near  or  remote,  with  the  events 

1 "  L'aucien  Regime  et  la  Revolution."    Ouly  one  volume  has  been 

published. 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWErCHINE.  331 

or  the  men  of  our  time.  Still,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  that, 
however  foreign  the  subject  of  a  work  may  be  to  the  actual  cir- 
cumstances of  a  particular  epoch,  it  is  everywhere  marked  by 
a  certain  spirit,  which  is  either  in  sympathy  or  otherwise  with 
the  spirit  of  the  time.  The  soul  of  the  book  lies  here,  what- 
ever the  book  may  be ;  and  this  it  is  which  attracts  or  repels 
the  reader.  I  have  been  talking  of  myself  a  great  while, 
madame ;  but  it  was  you  who  tempted  me  to  this,  and,  I  assure 
you,  it  is  not  habitual. 


TOCQUEVILLE,  July  22,  1856. 

...  I  have  delayed  writing,  madame,  hoping  that  I  should 
be  able  to  give  you  a  good  account  of  myself;  but  I  see  that  is 
not  likely. 

And,  first,  let  me  thank  you  for  your  last  letter.  It  con- 
tained, as  all  your  letters  do,  proofs  of  an  affection  which 
consoles  and  strengthens  me.  I  never  received  a  line  of  your 
writing  without  being  sensible  of  this  twofold  impression.  The 
reason  is,  I  think,  that  one  finds  in  you  a  heart  easily  moved, 
in  connection  with  a  mind  firmly  fixed  upon  abiding  principles. 
Here  is  the  secret  of  your  charm  and  your  sway.  I  want  to 
profit  more  than  I  do  by  your  precious  friendship.  It  distresses 
me  that  I  succeed  so  ill. 

Yet  I  have  recovered,  since  I  wrote  you,  some  portion  of 
the  calmness  which  was  wanting  during  the  last  of  my  stay  in 
Paris,  and  the  first  moments  of  my  return  here.1  I  have  not 
yet  been  able,  however,  to  feel  a  keen  interest  in  any  thinjj. 
.No  work,  no  occupation  even,  has  any  charm  for  me :  and  this 
leaves  the  depths  of  my  being  in  a  state  of  constant  agitation ; 
for  I  have  never  found  repose  in  immobility,  but  rather  in  a 
rapid  and  continuous  movement  of  the  mind  toward  a  given 
point. 

I  hope  this  letter  will  find  you  in  the  country.  Your  life  in 
Paris,  so  crowded  with  the  interests  of  others,  though  it  may 
sometimes  afford  you  the  heartfelt  satisfaction  of  doing  much 
good,  must  yet,  in  the  end,  try  your  health ;  and  I  rejoice  in 
your  solitude.  Consult  your  own  pleasure,  while  this  la>ts. 
madame,  and  think  of  others  only  to  recall  the  affection  you 
inspire  in  some,  and  the  respect  you  awaken  in  others.  I  know 
of  no  more  noble  plan  of  life  than  yours. 

1  M.  de  Tocqueville  had  just  lost  his  father,  and  several  of  the  letters 
which  express  his  filial  grief  are  omitted  here. 


332  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

I  have  just  read  a  book  which  interested  me  deeply, — 
Albert  de  Broglie's  "L'Eglise  et  1'Empire  Remain,  au  14me 
Si£cle."  There  is  a  great  deal  of  talent  in  the  work ;  and, 
along  with  a  sincere  faith,  a  liberal  spirit,  which  enables  the 
author  to  judge  of  men  as  the  instruments  of  God.  The  gen- 
eral composition  of  the  book  struck  me  as  exceedingly  happy. 
I  have  always  experienced  a  strong  disgust  for  the  period  of 
the  decadence  of  Rome ;  and  Prince  de  Broglie's  work  is  the 
only  one  which  has  actually  interested  me  in  the  subject. 


TOCQUEVILLE,  Sept.  10, 1856. 

...  I  have  always  been,  madame,  the  most  irregular  and 
fitful  of  correspondents.  I  would  gladly  do  like  a  compatriot 
whom  I  met  in  America,  and  who,  when  he  had  any  thing  of 
importance  to  say  to  a  friend,  would  travel  a  hundred  leagues 
sooner  than  write  a  letter ;  very  unlike  one  of  my  neighbors, 
who  was  so  ill  at  ease  in  conversation,  and  so  accustomed  to 
the  pen,  that,  if  hard  pushed  in  an  argument,  he  quitted  you 
at  once,  mounted  his  little  horse,  which  he  had  left  at  the  gate, 
and  galloped  off  to  his  castle  to  write  out  his  reply.  I  am  the 
very  opposite  of  this  last  individual ;  but  I  would  willingly  do 
like  the  other. 

I  love  to  hear  you  speak  so  nobly  of  every  thing  approach- 
ing slavery.  I  perfectly  agree  with  you,  that  a  new  and  fair 
division  of  goods  and  rights  in  this  world  should  be  the  main 
object  of  those  who  conduct  human  affairs.  I  only  wish  that 
political  equality  meant  equal  freedom,  and  not,  as  it  is  too 
often  understood  in  our  day,  equal  subjection  to  a  common 
master.  I  strongly  suspected,  I  must  confess,  that  what  I  said 
about  the  clergy  of  the  old  regime,  and  the  advantage  to  be 
derived  from  binding  them  to  their  country  by  the  ties  of 
worldly  interest,  would  not  win  your  entire  assent.  I  do  not 
want  merely  to  touch  on  this  great  subject  with  you  by  letter ; 
but  I  earnestly  desire  that  one  of  those  rare  and  precious 
hours  may  be  near  at  hand  when  it  is  given  me  to  converse 
with  you  freely. 

With  your  permission,  I  will  speak  to-day  only  of  the 
feeling  under  whose  influence  I  wrote.  There  are,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  two  distinct  divisions  in  ethics,  equally  important  in  the 
eyes  of  God,  but  which,  in  our  day,  his  ministers  teach  with 
very  unequal  zeal.  The  one  belongs  to  the  private  life.  It 
comprises  the  relative  duties  of  the  human  being,  as  father  or 
child,  wife  or  husband.  The  other  concerns  public  life,  and 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINK.  333 

consists  of  the  duties  of  the  citizen  to  his  country,  and  to  that 
special  division  of  human  society  of  which  he  is  a  part.  Am  I 
mistaken  in  the  belief,  that  the  clergy  of  our  time  are  very 
much  concerned  about  the  first-mentioned  branch  of  morality, 
and  very  little  about  the  second?  The  fact  appears  to  me 
every  where  patent,  especially  in  the  style  of  thought  and  feeling 
prevalent  among  our  mothers  and  wives.  I  see  multitudes 
of  these  who  have  a  thousand  private  virtues,  in  which  the 
direct  and  beneficent  action  of  religion  is  manifest,  who, 
thanks  to  religion,  are  faithful  wives,  just  and  indulgent  mis- 
tresses, and  full  of  charity  to  the  poor ;  but  of  that  portion  of 
their  duty  which  concerns  public  life,  they  have  not  the  dimmest 
idea.  Not  only  do  they  fail  to  practise  it  themselves,  but  they 
do  not  seem  to  dream  of  enjoining  such  practice  on  those  who 
come  under  their  influence.  This  phase  of  education  is  to 
them,  as  it  were,  invisible.  It  was  not  so  under  the  old  regime, 
which,  among  many  vices,  included  proud  and  manly  virtues. 
I  have  often  heard  them  tell,  that  my  grandmother,  who  was  a 
very  religious  woman,  after  enjoining  on  her  little  son  the  per- 
formance of  every  private  duty,  never  failed  to  add,  "And 
then,  my  child,  never  forget  that  a  man  belongs  first  of  all  to 
his  country,  and  that  he  must  hesitate  at  no  sacrifice  for  her 
sake ;  that  he  must  never  be  indifferent  to  her  fate ;  and  that 
God  requires  him  to  be  always  ready  to  consecrate  his  time, 
his  fortune,  and  even  his  life,  to  the  service  of  the  state  and 
the  king." 

But  1  see,  madame,  that  I  am  insensibly  getting  deeper  into 
the  subject  than  I  meant.  I  want  to  talk  with  you  about  this 
thing.  I  cannot  say  all  I  would  in  writing.  I  will  not  close, 
however,  without  thanking  you  for  the  quotation  from  Bossuet. 
I  find  in  that  single  sentence  all  that  can  elevate  man,  and  at 
the  same  time  restrain  him  to  his  proper  place.  It  gives  one 
a  sense  at  once  of  one's  own  greatness  and  that  of  God.  It 
is  proud,  and  it  is  humble.  Where  did  you  find  it,  madame  ? 
I  did  not  know  this  admirable  fragment. 


TOCQOKVILLE,  Oct.  20. 1856. 

...  I  assure  you,  madame,  that  I  am  not  tempted  to  make 
use  of  the  permission  you  accorded  me,  to  leave  your  letters 
unanswered.  The  simple  desire  to  hear  from  you  would  be 
enough  to  induce  me  to  write.  In  short,  the  pleasure  of  re- 
ceiving one  of  your  letters  is  so  great,  that  only  laziness  could 
interfere  with  the  wish  to  deserve  it. 


334  LIFE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

You  say  some  things  in  your  last,  which  are  as  true  as  they 
are  finely  expressed,  on  the  inevitable  vagueness  of  our  ideas 
of  political  duty  in  troublous,  unsettled,  revolutionary  times 
like  our  own,  and  on  the  difficulties  we  encounter  in  attempting 
to  indicate  to  mankind  the  law  of  conscience  in  this  respect. 
You  would  assuredly  be  right,  if  it  were  a  question  of  enforcing 
or  defending  any  special  doctrines  of  government ;  but  I  do 
not  so  understand  it.  I  believe  that  in  this  matter,  as  in  all 
that  concerns  human  action,  there  are,  besides  the  special  rules 
applicable  to  each  individual  case,  general  principles  to  incul- 
cate, sentiments  to  cherish,  a  certain  direction  to  be  given  to 
the  ideas  and  the  will.  Assuredly,  I  do  not  ask  of  the  priests 
to  enforce  upon  the  men  whose  education  is  intrusted  to  them, 
and  over  whom  they  exercise  an  influence,  the  duty  of  favoring 
a  republic  or  a  monarchy.  But  I  must  confess,  that  I  wish  they 
oftener  addressed  them,  not  as  Christians  merely,  but  as  mem- 
bers of  one  of  the  great  human  societies  which  God  has  doubtless 
established  to  strengthen  the  ties  which  bind  individuals  to- 
gether,— societies  which  are  called  nations,  and  whose  territory 
is  the  fatherland.  I  wish  they  could  make  each  man  feel  more 
deeply  that  he  has  a  duty  to  this  collective  entity  prior  to  the 
duty  which  he  owes  himself;  that  he  must  never  become  indif- 
ferent to  its  interests,  still  less  exalt  that  indifference  into  a  sort 
of  effeminate  virtue,  enervating  to  some  of  our  noblest  instincts  ; 
that  all  are  responsible  for  the  fate  of  the  country  ;  and  that  all, 
according  to  their  several  lights,  are  bound  to  labor  unceas- 
ingly for  her  prosperity,  and  to  take  care  that  she  submit  to 
none  but  beneficent,  worthy,  and  legitimate  rulers.  I  know 
that  the  inference  has  been  drawn  from  the  gospel  of  the  Sunday 
before  last,  that  the  Christian's  duty  in  political  matters  is  con- 
fined to  obeying  the  established  authority,  whatever  it  may  be. 
Permit  me  to  believe  that  this  is  an  inference  from  the  com- 
ment rather  than  from  the  text,  and  that  political  virtue  is  not 
thus  circumscribed  for  the  Christian.  Of  course,  Christianity 
may  exist  under  any  government,  and  may  find,  even  in  cus- 
toms which  bad  governments  impose  upon  men,  the  material 
for  noble  virtues.  But  it  does  not  follow,  unless  I  am  greatly 
mistaken,  that  men  should  become  insensible  or  indifferent  to 
these  customs,  or  that  any  one  is  relieved  of  the  duty  of  bravely 
contending  for  the  legitimate  methods  revealed  by  the  light  of 
conscience. 

This  is  what  I  would  fain  see  taught  to  men,  and,  I  would 
add,  to  women.  Nothing  has  struck  me  more,  in  a  tolerably 
long  experience  of  public  affairs,  than  the  influence  exerted  by 
women  in  these  matters,  —  an  influence  all  the  greater  for  being 
indirect.  I  do  not  doubt  that  it  is  they  who  impart  to  a  nation 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SAVETCHINE.  335 

that  moral  temperament  which  5s  subsequently  revealed  by  its 
policy.  I  could  cite  a  multitude  of  names  which  would  illus- 
trate what  I  say.  A  hundred  times,  in  the  course  of  my  life, 
I  have  seen  weak  men  displaying  actual  public  virtues,  because 
there  were  women  beside  them  who  supported  them  in  such 
a  course,  —  not  by  advising  such  and  such  particular  acts,  but 
by  exercising  a  tonic  influence  on  their  manner  of  regarding 
duty,  or  even  ambition  in  general.  Oftener  still,  it  must  be 
confessed,  I  have  seen  the  secret  influence  of  the  fireside  trans- 
forming the  man  to  whom  nature  had  given  generosity,  dis- 
interestedness, and  greatness  of  soul,  into  a  mean,  vulgar, 
egotistical  ofh'ce-seeker,  who  came  to  see  in  the  affairs  of  his 
country  only  the  means  of  rendering  his  own  situation  more 
easy  and  comfortable.  And  how  came  this  about?  Through 
daily  contact  with  a  virtuous  woman,  a  faithful  wife,  a  good 
mother,  by  whom  the  great  idea  of  political  duty,  in  its  loftiest 
and  most  energetic  sense,  had  ever  been,  I  will  not  say  com- 
bated, but  ignored ! 


TOCQUEVILLE,  Dec.  29, 1856. 

...  I  belong  sufficiently  to  that  old  regime,  which  they 
accuse  me  of  slandering  so,  to  be  unwilling  to  finish  a  year 
without  telling  my  best  friends  of  the  love  I  bear  them.  Allow 
me,  then,  uiadame,  to  follow  with  you  this  old  custom  of  the 
good  old  time,  and  to  assure  you,  with  all  the  earnestness  it  is 
possible  to  put  into  words  written  and  sent  from  afar,  that  then? 
is  no  one  whose  fate  interests  me  more  than  yours,  and  that 
I  desire  for  you,  with  all  my  heart,  the  blessings  meet  for  such 
a  soul,  —  blessings  which  so  far  transcend  the  faculties  and 
even  the  desires  of  most ;  and  many  occasions  of  benefiting, 
consoling,  aiding,  and  elevating  all  who  approach  you.  You 
enjoy,  and  you  know  the  value  of,  this  noble  employment  of 
one's  time.  God  has  granted  you  the  greatest  boon  a  mortal 
can  obtain  ;  and  all  one  can  wish  for  you  is,  that  you  may  long 
have  the  use  of  it. 

It  was  very  good  of  you,  madamc,  to  remember  that  M.  de 
Boaambo  was  my  uncle.  His  death,  which  we  have  too  long 
ftm-secn,  was  yet  a  deep  affliction.  He  always  held  m  our 
family  a  place  apart ;  he  was  less  than  a  father  to  us,  but  more 
than  an  uncle.  The  last  tie  which  united  the  ivmnants  of  my 
lamily  breaks  with  his  death.  With  him  vanished  the  last  of 
that  generation  of  noble  parents  who  gave  us  such  rare  exam- 
ples of  virtue.  lie  united  to  all  the  most  affecting  evidences 


336  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

of  religion  the  highest  and  most  delicate  sense  of  honor. 
This  man,  whose  kindness  and  sweetness  of  nature  bordered 
on  weakness,  became  energetic  even  to  heroism,  where  his 
dignity  or  his  duty  was  concerned.  This  noble  and  excellent 
man  was  very  unfortunate  in  the  world.  He  was  smitten  by 
many  sorrows.  Surely,  the  justice  of  God  will  compensate 
him  for  these ;  and  he  alone,  in  the  absence  of  every  other 
argument,  would  prove  to  me,  that  such  justice  exists,  and  that 
the  order  which  has  been  disturbed  in  this  world  will  be  re- 
stored in  another.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  impossible  for  two  souls  to  meet  in  sweet  com- 
munion, without  religion's  sooner  or  later  crossing  the 
threshold  of  their  discourse." l  This  beautiful  remark  by 
Father  Lacordaire  was  soon  verified  in  the  intercourse  of 
M.  de  Tocqueville  and  Mme.  Swetchine.  He  revealed  to 
her  the  state  of  his  mind  with  much  feeling  and  utter  un- 
reserve. After  receiving  her  reply,  he  wrote  as  follows :  — • 

TOCQUEVILLE,  March  21, 1867. 

Your  last  letter,  madame,  has  given  me  a  deep  and  lasting 
sense  of  gratitude.  You  are  not  one  to  stand  secure  upon  the 
shore,  and  feel  a  cruel  joy  in  watching  the  tempest-tossed 
sailor.  Thanks,  madame,  for  the  hopes  which  you  entertain, 
and  bid  me  cherish.  May  God  hear  your  prayers !  I  have 
sought  the  truth  of  which  we  have  spoken,  if  not  always  with 
the  single  eye  which  is  worthy  to  discover  it,  at  least  zealously, 
and  with  a  sincere  desire  to  find  and  grasp  the  blessing.  If 
trouble  led  to  peace,  how  long  ago  would  peace  have  been 
mine  ! 

That  truth  and  that  peace  the  noble  heart  of  M.  de 
Tocqueville  could  not  fail  to  attain  and  enjoy.  He  was 
touching  it  at  the  very  moment  when  he  spoke  witli  such 
humble  self-distrust,  and  the  consolations  of  his  death 
have  already  shed  light  and  comfort  upon  his  life. 

The  health  of  Mme.  Swetchine  was  now  growing  feebler 

1  Funeral  Oration  of  Mme.  Swetchine,  by  Father  Lacordaire,  "  Cor- 
respondant"  of  Oct.  25, 1857,  p.  197. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  337 

every  day.  Her  unparalleled  courage  and  heroism  still 
kept  up  the  illusion  of  strength ;  but  those  who  watched 
narrowly  the  progress  of  her  malady  saw  that  the  danger 
was  imminent.  For  thirty  years,  it  may  be  said,  she  had 
not  been  free  from  suffering  for  a  day ;  and  her  nights,  in 
particular,  had  been  seasons  of  cruel  trial.  A  liver  com- 
plaint, the  commencement  of  heart-disease,  and  premoni- 
tory symptoms  of  dropsy,  had  long  ago  induced  swelling 
and  oppression.  She  only  resisted  their  progress  by  sit- 
ting habitually  in  a  high,  hard  chair,  or  walking  about 
her  rooms.  Some  of  the  interviews  most  deeply  engraved 
upon  the  memory  of  her  friends  were  chiefly  passed  in 
traversing  by  her  side  the  length  and  breadth  of  her 
drawing-room,  sometimes  with  hurried  steps.  We  must 
not,  therefore,  omit  to  mention,  among  the  efforts  of 
patience  which  she  imposed  on  herself  for  the  sake  of  her 
friends,  the  obligation  to  remain  seated  when  her  drawing- 
room  was  full,  and  did  not  admit  of  her  seeking  relief  in 
motion.  She  said  sometimes,  with  a  smile,  to  the  few 
who  knew  what  she  suffered  from  this  inconvenience, 
"  The  politeness  of  the  world  consists  in  rising  for  vis- 
itors ;  mine,  in  keeping  my  seat." 

During  the  night,  this  tendency  caused  her  actual  tor- 
ture. Before  midnight  she  slept  quite  soundly,  but  seldom 
did  she  hear  from  her  little  camp-bed  the  clock  strike  one, 
or  at  most  two,  before  a  sense  of  suffocation  obliged  her  to 
rise,  and  resume  her  walk.  Sometimes  a  mechanical  in- 
stinct made  her  start  from  her  bed  before  she  was  fully 
awake ;  and,  in  that  case,  she  would  often  run  with  such 
violence  against  the  angles  of  the  furniture,  that  she 
would  show  visible  traces  of  the  blow.  More  frequently, 
she  mastered  her  drowsiness ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  her 
feverish  agitation,  her  mind  resumed  its  steady,  tranquil 

22 


338  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

workings.  And  then,  pausing .  at  intervals  before  her 
desk,  she  would  trace  those  detached  fragments,  those 
almost  illegible  pencil  lines,  which  she  did  not  always 
remember  to  destroy,  and  which  have  providentially  sur- 
vived to  reveal  to  us  the  treasures  of  her  humility. 

During  the  two  last  years  of  her  life,  Mme.  Swetchine 
sought  in  the  summer  a  country  residence  more  solitary 
and  remote  from  Paris  than  had  been  her  wont.  Her 
physicians  enjoined  in  the  most  peremptory  manner  this 
isolation  for  a  few  months.  The  ingenuity  of  affection 
opened  to  her  an  asylum,  which  added  to  its  intrinsic 
charms  that  of  renewing  the  memory  of  an  affection 
always  present  to  the  heart  of  Mme.  Swetchine.  The 
Countess  de  la  Rochejacquelin,  daughter  of  the  Duchess 
de  Duras,  placed  at  her  disposal  the  old  chateau  of  Fleury, 
on  the  borders  of  the  forest  of  Fontainebleau.  Here  she 
found  a  vast  ground-floor,  where  she  could  take  exercise 
at  any  time,  deep  moats  beneath  the  windows,  full  of 
limpid  water ;  in  the  park,  the  silent  shadow  of  trees  a 
century  old ;  long,  battlemented  walls,  which  could  still 
shelter  solitude,  though  they  no  longer  defended  power, 
and  all  the  charms  and  blessings  of  the  rarest  hospitality. 
The  noble  aspect  of  this  fine  old  place,  its  grand  memo- 
ries, even  the  shade  of  the  Princess  de  Tarente,  which 
Mme.  Swetchine,  as  we  have  already  seen,  saluted  with 
emotion, — all  these  contributed  to  produce  a  salutary 
effect,  which  her  friends  rejoiced  exceedingly  to  see,  and 
on  which  they  built  their  latest  hopes. 

The  parish  church,  which  almost  adjoined  the  chateau, 
received  each  day  a  morning  visit.  "  I  proposed  to  her," 
writes  the  cure"  of  Fleury,  "  to  say  her  week-day  mass  at 
an  hour  better  suited  to  the  exigencies  of  her  health ;  but 
she  was  seldom  willing  to  consent  to  this,  for  fear  of 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  339 

wounding  the  good  Sisters  of  Charity,  who  heard  the 
service  with  her."  On  Sundays,  all  the  people  of  the 
parish  loved  to  see  and  gather  round  her,  when  she  came 
out  from  high  mass.  She  was  very  lively  with  them,  and 
had  kind  and  cheery  words  for  all.  The  poor  and  af- 
flicted, who  had  experienced  her  vast  charity,  waited 
patiently  till  the  crowd  had  passed,  and  then  approached 
her ;  nor  did  they  ever  turn  away  without  having  felt  the 
effects  of  her  liberality.  Often,  when  unable  to  go  out, 
she  sent  for  them  to  come  to  her. 

Her  friends  were  careful  to  respect  her  retirement. 
Not  one  of  them  would  have  consented  to  intrude  on  her, 
unless  in  answer  to  a  direct  appeal.  Among  those  whom 
she  thus  summoned  were  the  Baroness  Seebach,  second 
daughter  of  the  Countess  de  Nesselrode,  and  Mme.  Craven, 
who,  as  the  daughter  of  Count  de  la  Ferronnays,  was 
the  representative  to  Mme.  Swetchine  at  once  of  a  living 
affection  and  a  dear  and  pious  memory. 

"  It  was  a  blessed  day,"  wrote  Mme.  Craven,  on  leaving 
Fleury.  "  Mme.  Swetchine  urged  me  strongly  to  reserve  to 
myself  each  day  some  hours  of  entire  freedom  in  the  morning. 
'The  quality  of  the  time,'  said  she,  is  better  then.'  And  it 
•vvu.s  not  merely  for  the  sake  of  consecrating  the  first  hours  of 
the  day  to  God  that  she  began  it  so  early,  but  also  that  she 
might  always  have  a  considerable  time  to  devote  to  study. 
She  told  me,  that  day,  that  her  pleasure  in  study  had  grown 
with  her  years ;  '  so  much  so,'  said  she,  '  that,  when  I  approach 
that  table  to  resume  my  beloved  labor,  my  heart  throbs  with 
joy.' — 'Ah  !'  said  she  that  same  day,  '  old  age  is  not  the  lovely 
age ;  but  be  sure,  my  dear,  it  is  a  lovely  age.' "  l 


i  To  form  a  just  idea  of  that  passion  for  study  which  possessed  Mme. 
Swetchine  to  her  latest  day,  one  should  read  her  correspondence  with 
M.  Donetti,  editor  of  the  "  Annales  de  Philosophic  Chretienne,"  —  a  cor- 
respondence which  he  has  published  in  a  very  interesting  sketch  in  tht> 
"  Annales  "  for  December,  1867. 


340  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

Among  all  the  studies  recommended  by  Mme.  Swet- 
chine  to  her  friends,  the  study  of  self  always  occupied 
a  prominent  place.  She  herself  kept  up  the  practice  of 
self-examination  to  her  dying  hour;  but  no  exertions  in 
this  line  could  quiet  her  anxiety  or  satisfy  her  thirst  for 
perfection.  Fragments  of  her  scrupulous  and  unwearied 
analysis  of  the  most  trifling  movements  of  her  heart  and 
conscience  may  still  be  read  upon  the  worn  leaves  of  two 
pocket  diaries. 

"  I  have  no  further  desire  to  be  pointed  out  to  the  children 
of  men,  save  as  a  woman  who  believes  and  prays  and  loves." 

"  Saturday,  March  29,  1856. 

"  Always  to  begin  by  doing  that  which  costs  me  most,  unless 
the  easier  duty  is  a  pressing  one. 

"To  examine,  classify,  and  determine  at  night  the  work  of 
the  morrow ;  to  arrange  things  in  the  order  of  their  importance, 
and  act  accordingly. 

"  To  dread,  above  all  things,  bitterness  and  irritation.  To 
shun  display  in  all  things.  Never  to  say,  or  indirectly  to  recall 
any  thing  to  my  own  advantage.  Never  to  be  pleased  with  any 
thing  that  I  say  myself,  nor  to  press  my  point.  To  withhold 
striking  remarks. 

"  God  blesses  man,  not  for  finding,  but  for  seeking. 

"  To  choose  to  have  less  rather  than  more." 

Some  lines  of  a  similar  character  were  traced  at  Fleury, 
at  the  close  of  the  year  1857.  Her  handwriting  was 
already  betraying  the  progress  of  the  malady  which  so 
alarmed  her  friends.  But  the  employment  and  direction 
of  her  thoughts  were  always  the  same. 

"  Not  to  have  struggled  earnestly  enough  with  evil ;  to 
have  let  it  gain  the  advantage.  To  have  allowed  every  thing 
about  me  to  grow  torpid  from  my  limbs  to  my  mind.  To  face 
the  danger  which  threatens  me,  and  which  increases  every 
day.  I  have  offered  to  God  my  full,  entire,  and  voluntary 
acceptance  of  the  decree  which  will  cut  me  off"  from  this  world. 
The  hour  and  manner  of  its  execution  I  leave  with  him. 

"  Blessed  death  of  Mme.  de  Saint-Glair,  the  grandmother 


LIFE   OP   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  341 

of  Mme.  do  la  Ferri^re,1  who  informed  me  of  it  thus :  '  She 
received  all  the  sacraments  with  great  meekness,  and  then  she 
said,  "  Ah,  how  sweet  it  is  to  die !  No  one  can  know  how 
sweet  it  is  to  die.1"" 

"FLEURY. 

"  To  pay  too  much  attention  to  the  number  and  variety  of 
my  sufferings,  —  this  is  a  servile  weakness,  a  softening  of  the 
will." 

"  Friday,  July  19. 

"The  dullest  and  emptiest  day  possible.  A  perfect  blank. 
Nothing  accomplished.  Utter  prostration  of  strength.  Good 
only  in  that  I  have  suffered  in  silence." 

Thus  did  Mme.  Swetchlne,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  eternal 
goal,  draw  rapidly  near  the  end.  Her  intention  had  been 
to  remain  at  Fleury  through  the  autumn  of  1857,  when 
she  received  intelligence  that  two  of  her  nephews  — 
Princes  Gregory  and  Eugene  Gargarin  —  were  coming 
with  their  families  to  pass  some  weeks  with  her.  They 
begged  her  to  receive  them  in  her  peaceful  retreat. 

With  her  customary  unselfishness,  Mme.  Swetchine  re- 
fused. Although  she  knew  her  two  nieces  to  be  high- 
minded  women,  and  tenderly  attached  to  her,  she  would 
not  consent,  merely  for  her  own  convenience,  to  confine  in 
the  country  these  young  ladies  with  their  children.  She 
resolved,  in  spite  of  all  remonstrances,  to  return  to  Paris, 
for  the  time  which  her  dear  visitors  had  devoted  to  her. 
She  left  Fleury,  hoping  to  return,  —  a  last  grace  which 
God  did  not  vouchsafe  us. 

i  Mme.  de  Saint-Clair,  nte,  Egerton,  married  in  England  one  of  the 
emlyri-s,  M.  de  Cheux,  formerly  a  page  of  Count  d'Artois,  who  after- 
wards bore  the  name  of  Saint-Clair,  to  distinguish  himself  from  the 
numerous  branches  of  his  family  in  Normandy.  She  became  a  Catholic 
after  her  marriage,  and  lived  and  died  in  France,  leaving  an  example  of 
the  most  exalted  piety.  Her  grand-daughter,  the  Countess  de  la  Ferriere 
Percy,  was  tenderly  beloved  by  Mme.  Swetchine. 


342  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 


LETTER 


COUNT   DE    MONTALEMBERT. 


THE  last  days  of  Mme.  Swetchine  were  the  crown, 
the  illustration,  the  consummation,  of  her  life.  A 
faithful  picture  of  these  not  only  concerns  the  honor  of 
her  memory,  but  the  influence  which  that  memory  is  to 
exercise  over  the  minds  of  others.  I  believe  I  may  be 
pardoned  for  bringing  before  the  eyes  of  the  public,  after 
long  hesitation,  a  letter  destined  only  for  a  friend.  A  more 
studied  narrative  would  have  been  less  reliable.  My  heart 
is  full  of  the  last  words  of  Mme.  Swetchine  herself;  and  it 
has  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  simple  truth  ought  to  take 
precedence  of  any  premeditated  statement  On  the  same 
ground,  I  hope  to  be  forgiven  my  frequent  personal  intru- 
sion into  the  story.  The  world  cannot  fail  to  understand, 
that  it  does  not  depend  on  me  to  abdicate  my  sad  privilege 
of  eye-witness. 

TO    THE    COUNT    DE   MONTALEMBERT. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  Your  grief  needs  all  the  consola- 
tion I  can  give.  Your  soul  must  share  in  the  indelible 
lesson  that  I  have  received.  I  send  you,  therefore,  a 
minute  and  faithful  journal  of  the  last  days  on  earth  of  the 
friend  whom  we  can  now  invoke  in  heaven. 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHIXE.  343 

I  reached  Paris  on  the  21st  of  August,  at  five  o'clock, 
A.M.,  summoned  by  a  letter  from  Cloppet  of  so  alarming  a 
nature,  that  I  hardly  dared  hope  to  find  her  alive.  I  went 
straight  to  her  door,  without  stopping  at  my  own.  The 
servants  were  already  up,  and  their  first  word  re-assured 
me.  The  accidental  crisis  had  passed.  The  chronic  malady 
remained,  but  Mme.  Swetchine,  they  assured  me,  was 
utterly  ignorant  of  the  danger  of  her  situation ;  and  I 
must,  they  said,  take  care  to  assign  some  motive  for  my 
sudden  return,  which  would  not  excite  her  apprehensions. 
I  was  surprised  to  hear  of  this  delusion,  it  was  so  different 
from  the  ordinary  courage  and  acuteness  of  our  sainted 
friend ;  still  I  must  needs  believe  the  unanimous  assertion 
of  four  very  zealous  and  intelligent  domestics.  It  was  set- 
tled, that  they  should  announce  my  arrival  as  the  result  of 
a  hasty  excursion,  and  that  I  should  not  come  back  till 
the  afternoon,  that  she  might  imagine  I  had  come  by  the 
night  train. 

I  entered  her  drawing-room  at  the  hour  when  it  was 
ordinarily  thrown  open.  Nothing  there  was  altered  or  out 
of  place.  She  sat  in  her  own  chair  near  her  writing-desk, 
and  there  was  only  one  visible  symptom  of  her  malady : 
her  head  was  bowed,  and  rested  on  her  breast.  She  raised 
it  only  by  what  seemed  a  very  painful  effort,  and  immedi- 
ately dropped  it  again.  If  one  sat  low  enough  to  catch  the 
play  of  her  features,  her  smile  was  the  same  as  ever,  and 
her  voice  retained  all  its  delicate  shades  of  inflection.  She 
quietly  accepted  the  reason  I  assigned  for  my  arrival,  and 
inquired  about  all  my  affairs  with  her  own  unfailing  solici- 
tude. She  spoke  little  of  herself,  and  asked  me  to  stay 
and  dine.  I  refused ;  assigning  as  a  reason,  that  it  would 
be  hard  for  her  to  walk  as  far  as  the  dining-room.  She 
replied,  "  Perhaps  I  shall  not  go  to  the  table  myself;  but  I 


344  LIFE    OP  MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

shall  know  that  you  are  there  close  by,  and  that  will  give 
me  pleasure."  I  still  refused,  and  said  that  I  would  dine 
at  the  Quai  d'Orsay,  which  is  very  near,  and  come  back 
immediately.  "  Yes,"  said  she  ;  "  but,  if  you  stay,  I  shall 
gain  all  the  time  it  would  take  you  to  go  and  come."  So 
I  stayed. 

Until  half-past  eight  we  were  alone.  Pressure  for 
breath  rendered  her  speech  slow  and  difficult,  and  often  in- 
terrupted it.  She  would  sign  to  me  with  her  hand  to  wait 
till  the  feeling  of  suffocation  had  passed  ;  and,  when  silence 
had  relieved  it,  she  would  resume  her  train  of  thought 
with  no  loss  of  clearness  and  beauty  of  expression.  I 
asked  her  a  thousand  questions  about  politics  and  our  com- 
mon friends  ;  and  she  replied  with  interest,  animation,  and 
even  gayety.  Speaking  of  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
which  beset  all  political  relations,  both  foreign  and  domes- 
tic, she  said,  "  Nothing  can  be  turned  to  immediate  advan- 
tage. All  is  reserved  for  the  winning  number.  But  what 
will  that  winning  number  be  ?  "  I  asked  her  if  the  ques- 
tion of  peasant  emancipation  were  not  beginxing  to  circu- 
late actively  in  Russia.  "  It  does  not  circulate,"  was  her 
reply :  "  it  boils."  At  half-past  eight,  her  two  nephews 
came,  with  their  wives  and  children.  The  Princess  Gregory 
Gargarin  was,  by  birth,  a  Princess  Dashkof.  She  be- 
longed to  the  same  family  as  the  celebrated  favorite  of  the 
Empress  Catherine.  The  Princess  Eugene  Gargarin,  nee 
Stourdza,  was  the  niece  and  the  faithful  representative 
there  of  the  Countess  Edling.  This  was  Russia's  share  in 
that  supreme  re-union.  She  invited  us  all  to  dine  with  her 
on  the  next  day,  and  took  leave  of  us  at  nine  o'clock,  the 
hour  fixed  by  her  physician.  I  retired,  convinced,  like  all 
the  rest,  that  she  felt  no  immediate  anxiety  about  herself. 

On   the   next  morning,  I  saw  Dr.  Rayer.     The   sub- 


LIFE   OP    MADAME    SWETCIIIXE.  345 

stance  of  his  opinion,  so  soon  to  be  completely  justified, 
was  as  follows :  "  The  incomparable  moral  force  of  Mme. 
Swetchine  is  at  present  her  principal  and  well-nigh  her 
sole  element  of  life.  Great  care  must  be  taken  not  to  im- 
pair this.  For  myself,  I-  do  not  visit  her  as  often  as  I 
should  like,  that  I  may  not  enlighten  her  on  her  situation, 
which  is  now  beyond  the  reach  of  science."  He  then. de- 
tailed the  nature  and  character  of  her  various  complaints. 
"  Her  sufferings  of  all  sorts  must,"  said  he,  "  be  inexpressi- 
ble." The  application  of  repeated  blisters  had  made  her 
body,  so  to  speak,  one  single  sore.  As  to  the  dropsy,  it 
was  already  about  the  heart,  and  beginning  to  affect  the 
head,  causing  the  sense  of  weight  there,  which  kept  it  con- 
stantly bowed.  Dr.  Rayer  did  not  apprehend  any  sudden 
accident ;  but  when  I  asked  him,  in  so  many  words,  whether 
I  could  rejoin  my  family  in  Anjou,  he  replied,  "  I  will  not 
answer  for  more  than  a  fortnight,  and  I  cannot  authorize 
the  faintest  hope  that  she  will  live  beyond  three  weeks." 
Stricken  by  these  mournful  words,  I  returned  to  her  side, 
resolved  not  to  lose  another  of  those  moments  which  the 
mercy  of  God  still  accorded  me.  I  did  not  see  her  alone 
that  afternoon.  At  dinner  there  were  eight  guests.  Mme. 
Swetchine  was  led  into  the  dining-room,  supported  on 
either  side ;  and,  once  seated  at  the  table,  she  did  the 
honors,  and  cared  for  us  all  with  the  vigilance  of  the  most 
attentive  hostess.  After  dinner,  she  said  to  her  eldest 
nephew,  Prince  Gregory  Gargarin,  "  My  friend,  go  smoke 
your  cigar  on  my  terrace."  —  "  Dear  aunt,"  replied  Prince 
Gargarin,  "  I  care  so  little  for  my  cigar  when  I  am  with 
you,  that  I  have  not  even  brought  any."  Mme.  Swetchine 
smiled  her  thanks.  Five  minutes  after,  Cloppet  entered 
the  drawing-room  with  a  half-dozen  cigars  on  a  plate ;  and, 
when  Prince  Gregory  exclaimed  at  this  attention,  she  said, 


346  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

"  Perhaps  you  think  I  put  myself  to  expense  for  you. 
Not  at  all !  I  borrowed  them."  Conversation  maintained 
this  cheerful  tone  throughout  the  evening,  which  we  were 
very  careful  not  to  prolong  beyond  nine  o'clock,  though  she 
insisted  on  our  staying. 

On  the  morrow,  she  asked  me  if  I  had  fixed  the  day  for 
my  return  to  Anjou  ;  and,  when  I  told  her  no,  she  paused, 
and  from  that  moment  never  mentioned  the  Bourg-d'Ire, 
or  any  thing  which  might  call  me  away.  She  understood 
why  I  was  there.  In  the  evening,  when  I  left  her,  she 
said  in  a  very  low  voice,  "  Come  at  noon,  to-morrow :  I 
want  to  talk  with  you  alone." 

The  next  day,  I  was  punctual  to  her  appointment ;  and 
without  preparation,  or  any  especial  solemnity  or  emotion, 
just  as  if  it  came  in  the  ordinary  course  of  conversation, 
she  said,  "  My  dear  Alfred,  we  must  now  attend  to  wind- 
ing up  my  worldly  affairs,  and  I  must  tell  you  just  how  I 
am  situated.  I  have,  properly  speaking,  no  will  to  leave. 
The  bulk  of  my  fortune  will  go  directly  to  my  sister  and 
her  children ;  but  there  are  some  special  bequests  about 
which  I  am  anxious,  and  I  want  to  be  sure  that  they  are 
executed.  You  must  advise  me  about  some  of  them,  and 
help  me  to  give  them  a  clear  and  legal  wording." 

I  would  not  urge  her  to  delay  this  sorrowful  business. 
It  would  have  been  an  attempt  at  deception  which  could 
only  have  done  her  harm ;  but  I  did  try  to  dissuade  her 
from  writing  out  her  requests  with  her  own  hand,  for  she 
had  told  me  beforehand,  that  they  were  somewhat  compli- 
cated. "  Let  me  write  from  your  notes  and  your  dicta- 
tion," I  said :  "  then  you  will  only  have  to  sign  the  paper, 
and  deliver  it  to  a  notary  before  witnesses."  — "  Do  not 
suggest  a  notary,"  said  she  with  animation  :  "  I  always 
had  an  antipathy  for  them ;  and,  besides,  it  would  be  a 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  347 

gratuitous  insult  to  my  sister  and  my  nephews.  If  I  have 
strength  to  recopy  what  you  write,  I  will  do  it.  If  that 
is  impossible,  whatever  you  write,  or  whatever  you  say  on 
my  behalf,  will  be  enough.  Let  us  begin  with  my  burial. 
Do  you  think  it  would  be  considered  singular  or  affected 
for  me  to  express  the  following  wishes  ? "  She  then 
handed  me  these  lines,  written  on  an  old  sheet  of  letter- 
paper,  and  dated  Nov.  27,  1851 :  "As  soon  as  my  eyes 
are  closed,  I  beg  that  I  may  be  laid  in  my  beloved  chapel. 
Let  the  body  be  kept  there  two  days,  and  afterwards  car- 
ried to  St.  Thomas  d' Aquinas,  where  I  would  like  to  have 
low  mass  said  on  my  behalf.  I  want  it  then  to  be  depos- 
ited in  the  vault,  and  the  next  day  removed  to  the  Church 
of  Montmartre,  where  I  desire  a  mass  said  for  the  repose 
of  my  soul ;  and,  after  that,  let  them  bury  me  in  the  little 
cemetery,  in  the  place  already  prepared  by  the  side  of  my 
husband.  I  would  like  my  grave  covered  with  a  stone 
similar  to  his,  and  a  cross  engraved  on  it,  with  my  name 
and  the  date  of  my  birth  and  my  death,  and,  underneath, 
these  words  of  the  Psalmist :  '  Domine,  dilexi  decorem 
domus  tua3  et  locum  habitationis  gloria?  tuae.'  I  beg  that 
the  hearse  may  be  as  simple  as  possible ;  and  I  distinctly 
forbid  any  sort  of  decoration,  particularly  draping  the  car- 
riage entrance  or  the  fronts  of  the  two  churches,  as  well 
as  notes  of  invitation  to  my  funeral,  or  to  announce  my 
death,  or  the  mass  at  the  end  of  the  year." 

When  I  had  assured  her  that  no  one  could  misunder- 
stand the  spirit  of  these  arrangements,  she  seemed  very 
much  relieved.  "  Well,  then,"  she  said,  "  take  that  bit  of 
paper  with  you,  and  begin  your  labors  there.  And  come 
to  me  each  noon,  and  so  we  shall  make  some  progress 
every  day.  Now  I  am  quite  out  of  breath,"  she  contin- 
ued, smiling.  "  A  tete-a-tete  is  the  only  thing  which  I  am 


348  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

almost  unable  to  bear.  Activity  about  me  is  very  far 
from  tiring  me,  if  I  take  no  part  in  it.  Conversation  still 
interests  me,  if  I  am  not  directly  appealed  to,  and  only 
join  in  it  so  far  as  my  chest  allows  me.  There,  I  have 
told  you  my  secret!  so  now  I  beg  you  will  act  as  my 
shield.  Instead  of  your  coming  less  frequently  than  usual, 
I  want  you  to  be  here  all  the  time.  I  cannot  do  without 
a  dragoman."  I  then  left  her  to  take  a  little  rest,  and 
promised  to  come  back  at  three  o'clock,  the  hour  when  her 
drawing-room  was  ordinarily  opened.  When  I  went  out, 
I  said  to  Cloppet,  "  We  need  not  trouble  ourselves  any 
longer  about  deceiving  her.  She  knew  this,  as  she  has 
always  known  every  thing,  long  before  the  rest  of  us."  I 
did  not  explain  myself  further ;  but  it  was  a  kind  of  satis- 
faction to  me  to  find,  that  even  to  the  last,  and  under  so 
cruel  a  revelation,  our  friend  was  equal  to  herself. 

Five  or  six  days  passed  in  this  way.  Every  day,  she 
spoke  to  me  in  detail  of  her  death,  of  its  approach,  and 
what  was  to  follow  it ;  and  intrusted  to  me  little  notes 
relative  to  her  intentions  with  regard  to  her  servants  and 
her  charities.  When  the  suffocation  became  too  intolera- 
ble, she  would  break  off  the  interview,  and  send  me  away. 
After  discharging  her  debt  of  gratitude  to  those  who  had 
taken  care  of  her,  the  subject  nearest  her  heart  was  the 
perpetuity  of  her  little  sanctuary,  which  had  been  worthily 
intrusted  to  the  Duchess  de  Chevreuse.  At  three  o'clock, 
her  drawing-room  was  thrown  open.  Every  trace  of  the 
morning's  employment  had  disappeared;  and  every  one 
continued  to  believe  in  her  illusion,  and  strove  himself  to 
keep  it  up.  When  I  endeavored  to  represent  to  her  the 
anxiety  which  this  arrangement  occasioned  me,  she  said, 
"  You  must  not  suppose  that  I  find  all  this  fatiguing.  It 
rather  rests  me.  I  can  no  longer  read  or  write,  and  isola- 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  349 

tion  would  wear  me  out  quicker  than  any  thing  else. 
Nothing  is  so  painful  to  me  as  vacuity." 

She  spoke  the  truth,  and  any  one  who  realized  her  in- 
tellectual force  would  have  ceased  to  contest  the  point ; 
yet  to  one  who  knew  her  heart,  the  suspicion  could  but 
occur,  that  tenderness  and  consideration  for  those  she  loved 
had  some  share  in  her  decision.  She  confessed  as  much  to 
me  a  few  days  later.  It  had  been  her  wish  once  more  to 
assemble  at  her  table  her  nephews  and  nieces,  with  the 
children  and  their  instructors.  She  was  excessively 
fatigued  by  the  effort,  and  that  night  her  mind  wandered  a 
good  deal.  I  took  the  liberty  to  remonstrate  with  her  for 
the  dinner-party,  in  the  name  of  her  nephews  themselves. 
"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  she  ;  u  but  I  did  so  want  them 
to  write  to  my  sister  that  they  had  all  dined  with  me. 
That  simple  fact  will  be  more  re-assuring  to  her  than  any 
thing  else.  Poor  sister!  ill  herself  at  Moscow.  I  know 
how  distressed  she  will  be  ;  and  I  dread  it  so  much.  And 
then  my  nieces,  who  have  all  Paris  to  visit!  Why  should 
I  make  them  anticipate  their  mourning  for  an  old  aunt 
whom  they  scarcely  know  ?  " 

In  expressing  my  anxiety  about  her  bad  night,  I  had 
not  dared  to  utter  the  word  delirium,  sure  that  the  thought 
of  losing  the  full  possession  of  her  faculties  would  be  most 
unpleasant  to  her.  Neither  did  she  allude  to  it.  During 
the  day,  she  received  as  usual  the  few  friends  who  were 
then  in  Paris,  —  M.  de  Langsdorf,  M.  de  Bois-le-Comte, 
Mme.  de  Meyendorf,  Mme.  Craven,  M.  Eugene  de  Segur, 
Augustin  Galitzin,  M.  de  Berton,  M.  Marcellin  de  Fresno. 
Several  times  she  joined  warmly  in  the  conversation,  de- 
spite her  constantly  increasing  sufferings.  There  was  a 
good  deal  said  about  the  trial,  then  pending,  of  Captain 
Doisneau  in  Algiers.  "  What  disturbs  me  most,"  said 


350  LITE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

Mme.  Swetchine,  "  is  the  grief  of  the  army,  and  the  con- 
clusions which  might  thence  be  drawn  unfavorable  to 
France.  There  are  so  many  people  who  forget  that  a 
nation  is  a  moral  agent,  and  make  light  of  insulting  her  to 
the  last  degree.  But  a  nation  is,  at  least,  a  neighbor,  and 
ought  to  be  the  first  of  neighbors."  And  she  continued  in 
this  strain,  with  an  eloquence  which  produced  all  the  more 
impression,  that  it  seemed  forced  by  a  kind  of  supernatural 
effort  from  her  panting  chest.  They  also  spoke  of  the 
projected  interview  between  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and 
the  Emperor  Napoleon.  "  Of  course,"  she  said,  "  nothing 
can  be  nearer  my  heart  than  a  reconciliation  between 
France  and  Russia  ;  yet  there  is  an  instinct  within  me  that 
almost  always  rebels  when  two  such  dignitaries  arrive  at 
too  good  an  understanding.  I  think  of  the  little  people 
who  must  pay  the  expenses  of  these  interviews ;  and  I 
cannot  forget  that  I  belong  naturally  to  the  majority." 

You  know,  my  dear  friend,  how  unwilling  she  was  to 
have  her  salon  assume  the  aspect  of  an  academy,  and  how 
rare  were  literary  exhibitions  there.  The  desire  to  remain 
in  her  presence,  and  yet  to  fatigue  her  as  little  as  possible, 
suggested  the  idea  of  calling  on  the  prodigious  memory  of 
Mme.  Meyendorf,  who  came  every  evening.  Mme.  Swet- 
chine showed  herself  very  sensible  of  the  rare  talent  for 
recitation  which  Mme.  Meyendorf  developed.  The  latter 
recited  some  fragments  from  St.  Chrysostom,  translated 
by  Villemain,  and  some  from  Father  Bridaine.  Mme. 
Swetchine  even  then  brought  out,  by  a  few  brief  but 
luminous  words,  their  very  dissimilar  beauties.  She  dwelt 
at  some  length  on  the  peculiar  merit  of  M.  Villemain's 
translation,  and  every  word  she  spoke  created  increased 
surprise ;  for,  during  the  declamation,  her  head  had  sunk 
lower  and  lower,  her  elbow  slipped  along  the  table  on 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SVTETCHINE.  351 

which  it  rested,  and  one  might  have  thought  her  asleep  at 
the  very  moment,  when,  as  she  proved  most  conclusively, 
she  was  paying  the  strictest  attention.  Mme.  de  Meyen- 
dorf  one  evening  recited,  in  the  most  piquant  and  ingenious 
manner,  the  fable  of  the  Grasshopper  and  the  Ant.  When 
she  thanked  her,  Mme.  Swetchine  remarked,  "  One  has 
certainly  only  a  child's  knowledge  of  Fontaine  till  one 
hears  him  from  you." 

The  delirium  now  returned  every  night,  and  redoubled 
the  alarm  of  the  attendants  who  watched  with  her.  She 
spoke  to  me  about  it  first.  "  I  have  most  extraordinary 
nights  now,"  said  she.  "  Thirty  or  forty  persons  come  into 
my  chamber ;  and  I  try  to  make  them  leave,  but  cannot. 
I  then  resolve  to  talk  quietly  with  them.  I  say,  '  I  know 
very  well  that  you  are  phantoms.  I  shall  outlast  you.' " 
She  related  this  in  such  a  calm  and  natural  tone  of  voice, 
that  I  asked  myself  if  there  were  not  still  a  little  halluci- 
nation in  her  mind  at  the  moment  of  speaking ;  but  she 
dispelled  the  suspicion  as  she  went  on.  "  This  disposition 
is  only  aggravated  in  me.  It  has  always  existed.  When 
I  was  young,  and  used  to  travel  post  several  nights  in  suc- 
cession, by  the  second  or  third  night  I  always  saw  three  or 
four  persons  on  the  seat,  and  one  or  two  running  beside  the 
carriage-door." 

Having  said  this,  she  went  back  to  the  subject  of  our 
noonday  interviews ;  that  is  to  say,  her  testamentary  be- 
quests. On  the  morrow,  when  I  inquired  about  her  night, 
she  replied,  "  The  same  delirium.  This  time  I  made  a 
great  effort  to  study  its  nature,  and,  if  possible,  penetrate 
its  mystery.  I  asked  myself  if  my  visions  might  not  be  an 
effect  of  light  or  of  conjunction  of  colors.  I  made  the 
watchers  change  places.  I  had  myself  carried  to  different 
parts  of  the  room ;  but  the  phantoms  followed  me  every- 


352  LIFE   OF   MADA5fE    SWETCHINE. 

where.  I  then  said  to  myself,  Enough :  it  is  a  symptom  of 
my  condition."  During  the  day,  she  still  continued  to  take 
an  active  and  sprightly  part  in  conversation.  Somebody 
asked  her  if  she  had  had  no  news  from  the  Marquis  de 
Brignole.  She  leaned  toward  me,  and  said,  in  an  under- 
tone, "  He  is  one  of  my  nightly  visitors."  Mme.  Le  Tis- 
sier  remarked,  that,  when  one  came  back  to  Paris,  it  was 
difficult  at  once  to  recover  the  concert  pitch.  "  Yes,"  re- 
plied Mme.  Swetchine,  "  one  has  to  polish  up  one's  music 
a  little,  and  spend  a  few  days  in  practising  scales."  One 
of  those  present  added,  that  it  was  true  there  was  a  lack 
of  mental  stimulus  in  the  provinces  and  the  country,  but 
that  Paris  had  another  kind  of  disadvantage,  —  confusion. 
Mme.  Swetchine  laughed  a  free  and  hearty  laugh.  "  Yes," 
said  she,  "  there  ought  to  be  seasons  of  mental  prohibition 
established  at  Paris,  and  a  kind  of  bunting  license  imposed, 
so  as  to  leave  every  one  time  for  his  partridges  to  hatch." 
When  I  arrived  at  Paris,  I  found  her  very  anxious  about 
Father  Lacordaire.  "  Do  you  comprehend,"  said  she  to 
me,  "  this  absolute  silence  on  the  part  of  everybody,  when 
the  centennial  celebration  has  taken  place  at  Soreze,  and 
all  the  bishops  and  archbishops  have  been  there;  and 
Father  Lacordaire  must  certainly  have  spoken  several 
times  ?  "  She  had  depended,  my  dear  friend,  on  hearing 
an  account  of  these  days  from  your  brother-in-law,  Werner 
de  Merode,  who  had  been  present  along  with  M.  de  Mire- 
poix.  She  counted  the  days  and  the  chances,  with  that 
affectionate  ardor  which  nothing  could  ever  damp.  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  find  in  a  reading-room  an  extract 
from  a  southern  journal,  describing  in  enthusiastic  terms 
the  whole  celebration  at  Soreze,  the  presence  of  Marshal 
Pelissier,  the  speeches,  the  toasts,  and  the  repeated  ap- 
plause of  the  audience.  I  procured  the  journal,  and  car- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE.  353 

ried  it  to  her ;  and  she  seemed  to  derive  a  kind  of  new 
life  from  it,  and  enjoyed  the  most  trifling  details.  "  The 
presence  of  Marshal  Pelissier  gives  me  infinite  pleasure," 
she  repeated.  "  It  is  enough,  and  not  too  much,  to  sat- 
isfy everybody." 

A  further  pleasure  was  in  store  for  her  the  next  day. 
Father  Lacordaire  himself  arrived.  She  questioned  him 
minutely  ;  and  never  was  he  himself  so  winning,  so  ten- 
der, so  full  of  filial  devotion.  Both  felt  that  it  was  the 
last  time,  and  testified  the  feeling,  though  not  in  words. 

The  general  debility  was  all  the  while  increasing.  For 
a  long  time  she  had  taken  no  nourishment,  except  a  few  raw 
peaches  without  sugar,  strawberry-sirup  and  eau  de  Saint- 
Galmier.  But  nothing  interrupted  her  morning  medita- 
tions of  several  hours  in  her  chapel,  her  daily  mass,  or  her 
frequent  communion.  Father  Lacordaire  had  the  consola- 
tion of  several  times  administering  to  her  the  holy  sacra- 
ment. No  entreaties  could  dissuade  her  from  remaining 
on  her  knees  almost  all  the  time  that  she  passed  in  her 
chapel ;  and,  after  she  had  received  the  body  of  our  Lord, 
she  knelt  for  at  least  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  hour  in 
prayer  that  bordered  on  ecstasy.  It  was  thus  that  she  de- 
rived strength,  serenity,  and  freedom  of  mind  for  the  rest 
of  the  day. 

On  Monday,  the  31st  of  August,  she  was  very  sleepy, 
and  received  scarcely  any  one.  Tuesday,  the  1st  of  Sep- 
tember, she  revived.  I  left  her  at  six  o'clock  to  go  to  my 
dinner;  and,  on  coming  back,  I  found  her  in  animated 
conversation  with  Father  Lacordaire  and  M.  Fresneau. 
She  made  us  read  to  her  the  whole  of  an  article  prepared 
for  the  "  Correspondant "  on  Sister  Rosalie  and  M.  de 
Melun.  It  was  the  last  reading  she  ever  heard. 

All  that  evening,  her  unexpected  interest  in  the  reading, 
23 


354  LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

and  the  presence  of  mind  with  which  she  followed  it,  in- 
spired Father  Lacordaire  with  a  confidence  which  he  had 
been  far  from  feeling  until  then.  He  had  quitted  Soreze 
in  haste,  on  the  first  alarm  about  Mme.  Swetchine,  leaving 
grave  interests  at  stake.  He  now  resolved  to  go  back  the 
next  morning  with  the  expressed  intention  of  returning  at 
an  early  day.  On  "Wednesday,  the  2d  of  September,  he 
came  very  early  to  say  mass  in  the  little  chapel  of  the 
Rue  St.  Dominique,  had  one  more  long  and  confidential 
interview  with  Mme.  Swetchine,  and  left  by  the  train  at 
nine  o'clock.  She  made  no  effort  to  detain  him.  She  had 
expressed  no  wish  to  have  any  one  sent  for.  She  blessed 
the  Lord  for  what  he  granted  her ;  but  that  which  he  did 
not  send  in  the  natural  order  of  things,  she  did  not  allow 
herself  to  desire. 

I  knew  how  fondly  she  loved  Mme.  de  Sainte-Aulaire  ; 
and  I  repeatedly  mentioned  her  name  in  order  to  give 
occasion  for  the  utterance  of  a  wish  which  I  should  imme- 
diately have  transmitted.  The  affection  was  always  ex- 
pressed ;  the  wish,  never.  One  day,  when  M.  de  Langsdorf 
was  going  into  the  country  to  see  his  mother-in-law,  I  was 
more  explicit  than  usual.  Her  reply  was,  "  I  hope  that 
she  and  I  are  both  borne  in  the  bosom  of  our  God.  There 
we  shall  meet,  and  love  for  ever." 

The  Marquise  de  Lillers,  who  was  eighty-nine  years 
old,  came  twice  a  day  to  inquire  for  her ;  sometimes  she 
went  in,  and  sometimes,  for  fear  of  disturbing  her,  she 
stopped  in  the  little  dining-room  and  shed  tears,  —  very 
affecting  in  one  of  her  age.  "  Do  you  know,"  said 
Mme.  de  Lillers  to  me  on  that  day,  "  what  was  the  last 
word  our  dear  and  sainted  friend  addressed  to  me  yester- 
day? I  embraced  her,  and  said  I  was  going  away  to 
pray  for  her.  '  Thank  you,  my  good  friend,'  said  she, 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  355 

'  thank  you ;  but  do  not  ask  God  for  one  day  more  or  one 
pang  less.' " 

The  nights  of  Wednesday  the  2d  and  Thursday  the  3d 
of  September  were  more  restless  than  any  previous  ones. 
The  confusion  of  mind  continued  for  a  part  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  was  followed  by  utter  prostration.  For  the  first 
time,  she  spoke  to  me  without  entire  possession  of  herself, 
and  thought  she  saw  some  one  sitting  between  us  when  we 
were  quite  alone.  This  alarmed  me  more  than  any  other 
symptom.  I  sent  for  Dr.  Rayer  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. Another  physician  came  instead.  Mme.  Rayer  had 
been  taken  suddenly  and  seriously  ill.  The  physician  or- 
dered very  painful  remedies.  They  procured  her  some  rest 
that  night ;  but,  on  Friday  morning,  the  suffocation  in- 
creased, and  drowsiness  alternated  with  a  species  of  delirium. 
She  recognized  those  who  approached  her,  with  a  smile, 
caressed  affectionately  with  hand  and  eye  her  nephews  and 
her  niece,  who  lavished  on  her  the  most  assiduous  care ; 
but,  beyond  this,  there  was  no  precision  or  connection  about 
her  thoughts.  Each  hour  we  hoped  to  see  Dr.  Rayer  re- 
turn ;  but  it  was  his  substitute  who  came  at  last,  and  told 
us  Mme.  Rayer  was  dead.  We  decided  to  conceal  her 
death  from  Mme.  Swetchine.  It  was  very  evident  that  the 
slightest  emotion  aggravated  her  condition  in  the  most  dan- 
gerous manner ;  and  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  how 
this  would  affect  her.  Only  the  day  before,  at  our  noon- 
day interview,  which  she  had  never  relinquished,  she  had 
given  me  a  list  of  her  friends'  names,  and  said,  "  We  must 
think  of  something  special  for  each  one :  I  want  them  all 
to  feel  that  they  have  been  the  objects  of  no  commonplace 
remembrance,  but  of  a  thoughtful  and  watchful  gratitude." 
She  was  particularly  anxious  about  Dr.  Rayer.  "  I  want 
a  regular  plot  laid  in  his  behalf,"  said  she ;  and  this  affec- 


356  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

tionate  conspiracy  was  to  have  had  Mme.  Rayer  for  its 
chief  accomplice.  It  is  easy  to  see,  therefore,  how  this 
death,  in  itself  a  great  affliction,  would  have  interfered  with 
the  carrying-out  of  one  of  her  cherished  thoughts. 

Dissimulation  was  easy  on  that  Friday  of  cruel  memory. 
As  the  day  wore  on,  her  sufferings  became  greater  and 
more  apparent.  Towards  four  o'clock,  the  suffocation, 
assumed  the  form  of  actual  convulsions.  Our  dear  sufferer 
for  the  first  time  allowed  us  to  place  her  in  an  arm-chair  ; 
but  presently  started  up,  with  an  agonized  face,  throwing 
aside  all  the  clothing  which  weighed  upon  her  chest,  and 
uttering  hoarse,  distressing  sounds,  which  seemed  like  the 
final  struggle.  M.  de  Melun,  who  had  just  arrived  in 
Paris,  saw  her  for  the  first  time  in  this  dreadful  state. 
His  despair  augmented  ours  ;  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
advise  us  to  call  in  the  cure  of  St.  Thomas  without  a 
moment's  delay.  We  sent  for  him  at  once,  and  also  sum- 
moned the  nearest  physician.  The  Abbe  Serres  arrived 
first,  and  undertook  the  duty  of  administering  extreme 
unction.  He  spoke  to  the  agonized  saint  in  the  most 
affecting  manner  as  a  priest  and  a  friend.  At  the  sound  of 
his  voice,  Mme.  Swetchine  seemed  in  some  sort  to  triumph 
over  death.  She  could  no  longer  articulate  distinctly,  but 
her  hand  continued  to  give  responsive  signs.  As  the 
prayers  continued,  the  effort  of  her  soul's  fervent  piety  be- 
came more  and  more  evident.  At  the  close  of  the  litanies, 
she  succeeded  in  pronouncing  almost  distinctly  the  "  Ora 
pro  nobis  ;  "  and  the  sobs,  kept  back  till  now  by  respect, 
burst  forth  involuntarily,  when,  the  venerable  cure  having 
pronounced  the  words  "  for  all  eternity,"  the  dying  lady, 
collecting  by  a  sensible  effort  all  her  strength  and  all  her 
faith,  added,  in  a  voice  hollow,  stifled,  yet  full  of  courage, 
"Yes,  for  all  eternity."  Her  servants  and  the  porters 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  357 

had  followed  the  Abbe  Serres  when  he  entered  the  apart- 
ment with  the  holy  viaticum.  The  doors  were  left  open ; 
it  was  precisely  the  hour  when  she  used  to  receive  ;  friends 
came  in  one  by  one,  dropped  on  their  knees,  and  burst  into 
tears.  Albert  de  Broglie  had  arrived  almost  simultane- 
ously with  M.  de  Melun,  and  quite  as  unexpectedly.  They 
were  soon  followed  by  Mme.  Fredro,  Mme.  Craven,  Mme. 
de  Meyendorf,  Mile.  Rostopchin,  M.  de  Bois-le-Comte, 
M.  Yermolof,  Father  Gargarin,  and,  finally,  Father  Cho- 
carn,  Superior  of  the  Dominicans  at  Paris.  When  the 
administration  of  the  last  sacrament  was  concluded,  the 
Abbe  Serres  begged  Mme.  Swetchine  to  bless  the  assistants 
and  their  families.  She  made  a  sign  that  she  blessed  and 
prayed  for  them  with  all  her  heart.  The  Abbe"  then  beck- 
oned Father  Chocarn,  named  him  to  her,  and  said,  "  Will 
you  not  bless,  in  his  person,  his  house,  and  Father  Lacor- 
dairc,  and  all  the  children  of  Saint  Dominic?"  They  then 
admitted  the  physician,  who  had  been  summoned  at  hazard. 
He  made  deep  incisions  in  her  legs,  and  drew  off  a  great 
quantity  of  water. 

The  evening  was  one  of  the  utmost  prostration.  Still, 
the  suffocation  sensibly  diminished,  and  the  effusion  of 
water  on  the  brain  was  arrested.  She  let  them  lay  her  on 
her  little  camp-bed,  which  was  brought  into  the  drawing- 
room  ;  and  the  night  was  comparatively  quiet.  On  Satur- 
day the  improvement  progressed.  M.  Andral  came  twice. 
At  each  visit,  she  begged  earnestly  for  news  of  M.  Rayer, 
Mme.  Rayer,  and  their  daughter.  "  Those  three  are  so 
happy  together,"  said  she  ;  "  they  are  inseparable."  For 
the  first  time,  M.  Andral  perceived  evident  symptoms  of 
mortification  about  her  legs ;  but  her  intellect  was  clear 
again,  and  had  all  its  own  peculiar  characteristics.  Satur- 
day morning,  she  said  to  me,  "  Yesterday  is  a  blank  tablet 


358  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

for  me.  I  can  recall  nothing  of  those  twenty-four  hours. 
Even  this  morning,  I  have  only  fractions  of  ideas."  In 
the  afternoon,  she  admitted  M.  Yermolof,  who  said  to  her, 
"  Do  you  know  that  you  received  extreme  unction  yester- 
day ?  "  She  replied  very  calmly,  "  I  did  not  know  it :  why 
did  they  not  tell  me  sooner  ?  " 

M.  de  Melun  had  come  early,  and  she  had  begged  him 
to  bring  his  wife,  whom  she  did  not  know.  She  received 
her  with  the  simplest  and  warmest  marks  of  affection. 
But  we  soon  began  to  dread  the  suffering  which  pro- 
tracted interviews  always  induced ;  and  I  offered  to  give  to 
Mme.  de  Melun  the  details  which  she  had  asked  of  the 
invalid  herself.  Mme.  de  Melun  was  astonished  to  per- 
ceive no  trace  of  illness,  and  to  hear  not  a  single  com- 
plaint. She  was  told  that  it  was  always  so ;  and  that 
those  who  had  been  with  the  dear  sufferer,  day  and  night, 
had  not  yet  detected  a  groan.  One  of  us  added,  "  When 
we  realize  all  she  endures,  we  cannot  understand  how 
she  does  it."  — "  It  is  because  I  am  content :  that  is 
the  extent  of  my  cunning,"  replied  Mme.  Swetchine, 
with  an  accent  of  the  most  simple  and  unaffected  gayety. 
M.  de  Melun  said  to  her,  "I  shall  come  back  alone 
presently."  Mme.  Swetchine  turned  to  Mme.  de  Melun, 
and  said,  "  How  like  a  husband  he  already  talks !  But, 
you  see,  it  is  no  arrangement  of  mine."  Mme.  de  Melun 
answered,  that  she  thought  her  husband  was  quite  right, 
and  that  two  people  would  fatigue  her  more  than  one. 
"Ah,  well!"  said  Mme.  Swetchine,  "if  I  have  any  thing 
sad  to  say,  I  shall  take  him  alone;  but,  if  it  is  any  thing 
affectionate,  you  shall  both  share  it." 

That  evening,  towards  seven  o'clock,  she  had  her  easy- 
chair  moved  near  the  open  window.  She  appeared  to 
enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  evening,  the  purity  of  the  air,  and 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHIXK.  359 

the  smiling  view  of  terrace  and  garden.  "  If,"  she  said  to 
me,  "  it  were  God's  will,  I  should  still  enjoy  life;  but,  if 
he  deigns  to  call  me  to  himself,  how  can  I  have  any  other 
feeling  but  gratitude?"  —  "Yes,"  said  I:  "I  remember  to 
have  heard  you  say,  that  resignation  is  not  enough."  — 
"  Resignation,"  she  answered,  "  is  still  something  distinct 
from  God's  will.  It  differs  from  it,  as  union  differs  from 
unity.  Union  implies  two;  unity,  only  one:  and  this  is 
the  way  it  ought  to  be  with  our  will  and  God's."  And 
then  she  spoke  of  herself,  a  thing  of  very  rare  occurrence. 
"  For  many  years,"  said  she,  "  my  real,  and,  I  might  almost 
say,  my  only  trouble,  has  been  when  I  have  not  known  or 
have  failed  to  comprehend  God's  will  in  regard  to  me. 
However,  I  have  all  trust  in  his  mercy ;  and,  in  my  present 
state,  trust  seems  my  only  means  of  glorifying  him." 
Then,  recurring  to  the  death  of  her  nephew,  Theophilus, 
over  which  I  had  seen  her  weep  bitterly  so.me  years 
before,  she  once  more  burst  into  tears,  as  if  the  blow  had 
just  fallen  upon  her.  "  My  grief  was  inconsolable,"  said 
she,  "because  I  thought  God  had  forsaken  me." 

Just  then,  the  Prince  and  Princess  Eugene  Gargarin 
came  in  with  their  children.  Their  two  little  boys,  the 
one  aged  about  twelve  or  thirteen,  the  other  ten  or 
eleven,  were  always  great  favorites  with  her.  On  their 
arrival  at  Paris,  they  had  spoken  of  two  young  Greeks, 
with  whom  they  had  made  friends  on  the  voyage ;  but  the 
Greek  family  had  stopped  at  Marseilles.  "  When  your 
young  friends  come  to  Paris,"  Mme.  Swetchine  said  to  her 
grandnephews,  "  tell  me,  and  I  will  have  you  all  come 
and  play  on  my  terrace."  The  little  Greeks  came ;  the 
children  told  their  aunt;  but  it  happened  to  be  one  of 
her  most  distressed  days,  and  she  made  no  reply.  This 
evening,  when  she  saw  them  come  in,  she  said,  "  You 


360  LITE   OF   MADAME   SWETCHINE. 

think,  perhaps,  that  I  have  forgotten  about  your  party  on 
the  terrace.  Not  at  all.  I  have  thought  of  it,  though 
I  said  nothing.  It  shall  be  Monday, —  the  day  after  to- 
morrow,—  if  you  wish  it:  the  only  question  is,  whether 
I  myself  shall  be  in  Paris  on  Monday." 

Father  de  Pontlevoi,  her  usual  confessor,  was  absent,  and 
his  place  was  supplied  by  Father  Soimier.  She  made 
arrangements  to  receive  the  communion  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing. M.  and  Mme.  Cochin,  and  Mme.  de  la  Ferriere, 
whom  she  had  not  yet  seen,  were  present  at  the  service ; 
and  she  welcomed  them  warmly.  In  the  afternoon,  the 
Duchess  de  la  Rouchefoucauld  arrived  from  Roche-Guyon. 
She  saw  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  made  her  go  away, 
while  they  bathed  her  legs,  where  she  noted  the  progress 
of  the  mortification  calmly,  as  she  did  every  other  symp- 
tom. At  four  o'clock,  she  was  carried  to  her  sofa,  and 
then  recalled  the  Duchess  de  la  Rouchefoucauld  and  Mile, 
de  Pomaret.  I  went  out  for  a  few  moments ;  and,  when  I 
came  back,  Mme.  de  la  Rouchefoucauld  and  Mile,  de 
Pomaret  were  chatting  near  her  sofa.  The  name  of  St. 
Andral  had  recalled  that  of  M.  Royer-Collard.  Mme. 
Swetchine,  who  had  a  great  affection  for  M.  Royer-Col- 
lard, kept  up  the  conversation.  They  had  just  been 
speaking  of  the  Revolution  of  July,  and  of  the  address  of 
the  two  hundred  and  twenty-one.  Mile,  de  Pomaret 
related,  that  when  M.  Royer-Collard  voted  for  the  address, 
and  assisted  in  drawing  it  up,  he  only  intended  to  give 
Charles  X.,  whom  he  professed  to  love  and  respect,  an 
opportunity  to  draw  back  with  honor,  and  re-enter  the 
path  of  possible  prosperity  for  France  and  Europe  gener- 
ally. "  That  reminds  me,"  said  the  Duchess  de  la  Rouche- 
foucauld, "  of  the  gentleman  who  once  promised  you  that 
he  would  study  the  happiness  of  his  wife.  Your-  reply 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  361 

was,  '  Content  yourself  with  not  preventing  it.' "  They 
also  conversed  with  interest  and  animation  about  Mme.  de 
Goutaut,  and  the  marriage  of  her  grand-daughter  with 
M.  de  Cosse. 

Shortly  after  dinner,  M.  Andral  came,  and  proceeded, 
as  usual,  to  examine  her  legs.  He  came  out  better  pleased. 
The  gangrene  seemed  to  have  disappeared.  "  There  is," 
said  he,  "  a  rallying  of  the  vital  forces  which  amazes  me." 
At  these  words,  we  could  not  repress  an  e'motion  of  un- 
hoped-for joy.  The  evening  did  not  belie  these  happy 
prognostics.  Mme.  Swetchine  spoke  less  freely  than  during 
the  day,  but  continued  to  testify  the  same  affectionate 
interest  in  all  who  approached  her.  She  still  preserved 
her  gentle  gayety,  and  those  happy  turns  of  expression, 
even  about  common  things,  for  which  she  was  remarkable. 
She  said  to  Mme.  de  Craven,  speaking  of  the  more  com- 
fortable arm-chair  which  she  had  accepted  a  day  or  two 
before,  and  which  belonged  to  her  maid,  "  You  must  know, 
my  dear  Pauline,  that  I  am  just  beginning  to  appreciate 
an  easy-chair,  and  that  I  have  lived  to  this  hour  without 
suspecting  what  comfort  really  is.  How  much  involuntary 
maceration,"  she  added,  with  a  smile,  "  I  have  imposed 
upon  those  who  have  been  coming  to  see  me  for  so  many 
years,  and  sitting  on  hard  chairs,  with  wooden  arms ! " 
M.  Andral  had  advised  her  to  eat  as  much  as  possible; 
and,  when  he  went  out,  she  said  to  Mme.  Craven,  "Now, 
I  must  rack  my  memory,  and  summon  all  my  gastronomic 
science,  in  order  to  compose  a  bill  of  fare  which  will  please 
the  doctor." 

Evening  came,  and  she  continued  better.  She  received 
M.  and  Mme.  Cochin,  and  detained  them  after  they  would 
have  left ;  and,  for  the  first  time,  we  separated,  and  went 
to  rest  with  something  like  hope.  In  the  morning,  when 


362  LIFE   OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

I  returned  to  her  house,  my  first  impression  was  one  of 
sorrowful  surprise.  She  had  had  her  bed  taken  into  the 
drawing-room,  and  received  me  lying  down.  I  asked  her 
if  she  had  had  a  bad  night.  "  No,"  she  said ;  "  but  I 
assure  you,  that  better  or  worse  signifies  nothing.  It  is 
all  one  to  me.  1  have  a  vague  feeling,  that  there  is  per- 
haps more  life  in  me  than  people  imagine ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  feel  as  if  I  might  be  in  the  presence  of  God 
in  a  very  few'hours."  These  words,  coming  directly  upon 
the  hopes  of  the  evening,  filled  me  with  inexpressible  sad- 
ness. The  accent  of  her  voice,  the  pressure  of  her  hand, 
her  attitude,  all  assured  me  that  the  encouraging  word 
was  spoken  for  our  support,  but  that  she  herself  was  per- 
fectly convinced  that  her  end  was  very  near.  I  had  great 
difficulty  in  controlling  my  emotion.  I  could  not  quite 
conceal  it ;  but  I  told  her,  that,  at  least,  I  could  thank  God 
for  having  allowed  me  to  be  with  her  at  this  season.  "  I 
was  going  to  say  what  may  sound  a  little  strange,"  she 
replied ;  "  but,  my  friend,  I  believe  you ;  and  I  may  add 
that  you  are  right.  We  must  always  be  grateful  when 
God  shows  us  the  truth ;  and,  believe  me,  the  truth  is 
here."  She  uttered  these  words  with  a  kind  of  gentle 
solemnity,  that  was  full  of  unction,  indicating  her  bed  at 
the  same  time  with  a  gesture  which  said  plainly,  "  It  is 
the  bed  of  death."  She  then  resumed  calmly :  "  We  must 
now  make  the  most  of  these  few  moments.  You  may 
think  it  incredible,  that  any  shadow  of  human  regard 
should  cross  my  soul  in  this  hour;  but  I  am  anxious  to 
speak  my  husband's  name  to  you  once  more.  It  may  be 
that  he  never  had  justice  done  him.  He  was  always  good 
to  me,  and  God  knows  that  I  have  never  been  consoled 
for  his  loss." 

It  was  then  that  she  spoke  of  her  papers.     I  dared  not 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCIIINE.  363 

question  her  directly  about  her  intentions,  for  fear  of  her 
imposing  upon  me  some  prohibition  or  absolute  condition. 
She  did  not,  however,  appear  very  anxious  on  the  subject, 
but  passed  rapidly  from  what  concerned  her  personally  to 
the  correspondence  of  Father  Lacordaire.  I  had  often 
heard  her  say,  "  Father  Lacordaire  will  never  be  known 
aright  till  after  the  publication  of  these  letters."  She  re- 
affirmed this  opinion  with  the  greatest  distinctness,  and 
insisted  on  it  strongly.  Her  little  bed  was  hardly  raised  a 
foot  above  the  floor.  I  was  on  my  knees  on  the  carpet, 
bending  over,  that  I  might  hear  her  better.  "  Go,"  said 
she,  "  and  open  the  etagere  in  the  corner  of  the  room, 
and  bring  me  a  bound  volume,  which  you  will  find  in  a 
box."  I  found  and  brought  it.  It  was  the  life  of  Saint 
Dominic,  all  in  the  handwriting  of  Father  Lacordaire. 
Her  eyes  rested  on  it  with  evident  affection,  but  without 
emotion  or  tears.  She  then  replaced  the  manuscript  in  my 
hands,  and  said,  "  Please  read  me  the  letter  on  the  first 
page."  I  read  that  dedication,  so  full  of  filial  attachment. 
When  I  came  to  this  sentence,  "  I  wish  that  some  one  of 
your  descendants  may  one  day  know  that  his  ancestress 
was  a  woman  whom  St.  Jerome  would  have  loved  as  he 
loved  Paul  and  Marcellus,  —  one  who  needed  only  a  pen 
illustrious  and  saintly  enough  to  do  her  justice,"  —  she 
interrupted  me,  and  said,  "  That  sentence  is  disagreeable 
and  absurd  as  applied  to  me ; "  then,  after  a  short  pause, 
she  added,  "  but,  where  I  am  going,  praise  and  blame  will 
be  alike." 

When  I  had  finished  reading  Father  Lacordaire's  letter, 
and  we  had  exchanged  a  few  more  words,  she  made  me 
ring  for  Cloppet,  told  him  where  to  find  all  her  corre- 
spondence with  Father  Lacordaire,  had  it  brought  her, 
and  placed  it  in  my  hands,  together  with  the  manuscript, 


364  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHIXE. 

begging  me  to  take  them  home  with  me  that  very  day. 
It  was  easy  to  see  that  this  was  her  most  cherished  care, 
and  that  she  would  not  expose  this  deposit  to  the  chances 
or  the  misunderstandings  which  she  accepted  so  readily  for 
herself.  She  had  designed  for  the  Duchess  of  Hamilton 
a  little  portable  silver  basin  for  holy-water.  "  Let  me 
show  you,"  said  she,  "  how  to  use  it ;  and  then,  after  my 
death,  you  can  explain  it  to  the  Princess  Mary."  And 
she  gave  me  the  most  minute  instructions,  with  unutterable 
serenity,  holding  the  little  font  in  her  hand.  She  spoke 
with  the  same  affection  of  the  Princess  Wittgenstein, 
daughter  of  Prince  Bariatinsky,  whose  name  was  linked 
with  the  studies  and  resolves  which  issued  in  her  conver- 
sion. At  last  she  said,  "  There,  I  am  very  tired.  We 
will  not  talk  of  business  any  more  to-day,  but  to-morrow 
we  will  begin  here." 

I  went  into  the  library ;  and  there  I  found  several  friends, 
who,  like  me,  had  come  in  full  of  hope,  and  to  whom  I 
communicated  my  alarm.  Still  no  apparent  aggravation 
had  supervened;  and  we  tried  to  re-assure  one  another, 
until  the  hour  for  M.  Andral's  visit.  I  stood  behind  the 
curtain  while  he  examined  her  legs.  Large  blue  spots 
had  re-appeared,  and  there  was  erysipelas  about  the  knee. 
M.  Andral's  face  was  very  grave.  I  was  meaning  to 
follow  him  when  he  went  out;  but  Mme.  Swetchine  caught 
sight  of  me,  and  said,  in  a  beseeching  tone,  "  Alfred,  I  beg 
of  you  to  follow  M.  Andral :  I  see  that  they  are  deceiving 
me  about  Mme.  Rayer.  Ascertain  the  truth,  and  tell  me, 
I  conjure  you."  Alas !  I  did  not  need  to  ask  M.  Andral. 

However,  I  had  confidently  expected  her  to  say  some- 
thing of  the  kind.  The  two  first  times  M.  Andral  came, 
she  inquired,  first  of  all,  for  Mme.  Rayer.  Sunday  even- 
ing, she  did  not  mention  her;  and  I  said  to  Cloppet, 


LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCIimE.  365 

"Depend  upon  it,  she  has  not  forgotten  her.  She  only 
wants  to  spare  us  the  equivocations  which  she  detects. 
How  many  times  I  have  seen  her  do  so ! "  On  Monday, 
she  would  still  have  concealed  her  anxiety ;  but  our  pro- 
longed silence  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  My  first 
impulse  was  to  go  at  once  for  Dr.  Rayer  himself.  M.  de 
Melun  dissuaded  me.  We  knew  the  despairing  grief  into 
which  the  doctor  and  his  only  daughter  were  plunged  by 
their  sudden  loss,  and  M.  de  Melun  thought  my  direct 
appeal  would  be  indiscreet.  I  confined  myself  to  sending 
a  verbal  message  by  a  third  person;  and  M.  Rayer  replied, 
that  he  would  come  to-morrow  (Tuesday),  at  nine  o'clock. 
I  waited  for  him  in  the  dining-room.  He  was  choked 
by  sobs.  He  opened  the  window,  and  hid  his  face  for  some 
time  without  speaking.  At  last  he  said,  "  This  morning, 
I  had  no  courage  to  keep  my  word ;  but  my  daughter  said 
to  me,  '  If  my  mother  were  alive,  she  would  entreat  you 
to  go : '  so  I  came."  I  could  but  respect  and  admire  the 
devotion  of  the  physician  and  friend,  and  the  deep  attach- 
ment which  our  dear  sufferer  inspired  in  all  who  approached 
her.  I  hastened,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  interest  science, 
and  call  it  to  our  aid.  I  described  to  Dr.  Rayer  the  symp- 
toms of  the  preceding  night,  which  had  been  very  serious. 
Ordinarily  she  had  her  windows  kept  open  till  late  in  the 
evening ;  but  this  night  she  had  complained  of  cold.  At 
one  o'clock,  a  chill  had  seized  her.  She  made  them  light 
a  large  fire,  and  keep  her  wrapped  in  heated  coverings 
till  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  doctor  had  told  me, 
that  he,  too,  wished  to  spare  Mme.  Swetchine  the  shock 
of  Mme.  Rayer's  death.  He  entered,  and  extended  his 
hand  to  her  with  a  smile.  "  How  is  Mme.  Rayer  ?  "  was 
Mine.  Swetchine's  first  word.  "  Madame,  it  was  she  who 
sent  me  here,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  which  those  who  heard  it 


366  LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

will  never  forget.  "  You  need  not  have  left  her,"  replied 
Mme.  Swetchine,  with  an  affection  worthy  of  her  friend's 
sacrifice;  "you  ought  not  to  have  quitted  one  whom  you 
may  yet  save,  for  me,  who  am  past  help."  M.  Rayer 
continued  for  about  twenty  minutes  to  make  the  most 
minute  inquiries  about  the  measures  which  had  been 
adopted  in  his  absence ;  but,  when  he  came  out,  he  did  not 
conceal  from  the  Princess  Gargarin  that  all  hope  was 
gone. 

That  Tuesday  was  a  painful  day ;  but  we  had  no  imme- 
diate alarm.  The  drowsiness  and  prostration  were  con- 
tinual. People  came  into  her  room,  and  sat  down  by  hex 
bed ;  but  she  did  not  seem  to  notice  them.  Yet  the  voice 
of  her  niece,  and  her  nephews'  kissing  her  hand,  called 
forth  a  few  words  of  unfailing  affection.  She  said  to  Mme. 
Craven,  "  The  suffocation  makes  my  voice  so  harsh,  that  I 
seem  to  be  grumbling  in  spite  of  myself."  And  to  her 
maid  she  said,  "  When  I  strain  my  voice,  you  must  not 
think  that  I  am  impatient ;  but  I  find  they  cannot  hear  me." 
Indeed,  it  became  more  and  more  difficult  to  catch  her 
words.  She  did  not  leave  her  bed  after  Monday,  but 
remained  there  in  a  sitting  posture,  with  her  head  either 
bent  forward,  or  resting  against  an  upright  pillow,  on  the 
left  side  of  the  bed. 

Yet  there  was  no  disorder  in  her  drawing-room ;  not  an 
article  of  furniture  out  of  place,  no  apparatus  of  sickness, 
not  even  a  table,  with  a  glass  or  a  phial.  When  she 
wanted  to  drink,  she  either  had  us  ring  for  Cloppet  or 
Mme.  Henri,  or  made  sign  to  Parisse,  who,  far  or  near, 
kept  her  eyes  constantly  fixed  on  her  mistress.  Her  little 
bed,  in  the  middle  of  the  drawing-room,  seemed  as  if  it 
had  been  placed  there  for  her  repose  during  a  trifling  and 
temporary  indisposition.  She  would  not  permit  the  be- 


LIFE    OF   MADAME    SWETCHINE.  367 

trayal  of  grief  by  any  external  paraphernalia,  any  more 
than  by  a  murmur  or  a  sigh. 

Sunday  and  Monday,  they  had  carried  her  in  an  easy- 
chair  into  the  chapel,  and  she  had  partaken  of  the  com- 
munion there.  On  one  of  those  days,  she  went,  long  before 
the  usual  hour;  and  Mme.  d'Esgrigny  entered,  and  took  her 
station  in  the  doorway,  without  Mme.  Swetchine's  noticing 
her.  She  thought  she  was  alone,  and  prayed  aloud,  often 
interrupting  her  prayer  by  words  and  gestures  of  gratitude 
to  God,  full  of  the  most  ardent  love.  On  Monday,  she 
remained  for  some  minutes  alone  with  Father  Soimier. 
Every  evening,  the  cure  of  St.  Thomas  came  to  see  her, 
and  made  arrangements  about  the  next  morning's  mass. 
On  Tuesday  evening,  Sept.  8,  she  requested  mass  for 
Wednesday,  at  half-past  seven.  The  cure  promised  her ; 
but  we  were  convinced  that  she  could  not  bear  being  car- 
ried in  her  easy -chair  to  the  chapel.  We  remained  later 
than  usual  in  the  library,  —  coming  and  going  between 
that  and  the  drawing-room, — exchanging  our  mutual  com- 
ments and  observations.  But  as  the  hours  wore  away 
quietly,  and  the  chill  of  the  night  before  did  not  come 
on,  we  separated. 

On  the  morrow,  judge  of  my  surprise  at  receiving,  when 
I  awoke,  the  following  little  note,  in  handwriting  that 
trembled  slightly  in  the  three  first  lines,  but  was  otherwise 
perfectly  steady :  — 

MY  VERY  DEAR  ALFRED,  —  I  beg  you  to  finish  the  paper 
you  have  in  hand.  I  have  strong  hopes  that  we  can  at  least 
continue  it  to-day.  Between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock,  I  hope 
to  have  a  moment  when  I  can  summon  you.  How  I  have 
taxed  you  !  but  it  will  all  be  reckoned.  It  will  help  to  win  you 
heaven,  heaven,  heaven  !  I  can  answer  for  it. 

Wednesday,  9th. 

At  first,  I  could  not  believe  my  eyes.    I  flattered  myself 


368  LIFE    OP   MADAME    SWETCHINE. 

for  a  moment  with  the  belief  in  a  new  miracle  of  her  vital 
energy,  or,  rather,  of  divine  mercy ;  but  I  soon  began  to 
fear  that  it  was  but  the  last  and  crowning  pledge  of  her 
maternal  tenderness.  Alas !  my  fears  were  only  too  well 
grounded. 

I  hastened  to  her.  She  was  dressed,  and  sitting  in  her 
own  chair,  near  her  writing-desk.  She  had  asked  for 
M.  des  Essarts,  her  man  of  business,  and  was  counting  the 
moments  with  a  kind  of  impatience.  He  was  later  than 
she  expected.  When  I  announced  him,  she  said,  "  It  is 
too  late  now.  The  right  moment  is  passed ;  perhaps  it 
will  not  return.  But  beg  him  to  wait."  She  then  re- 
peated, that  the  generosity  and  delicacy  of  her  nephews 
relieved  her  of  all  anxiety,  and  asked  to  be  carried  back 
to  bed.  When  she  had  lain  down,  I  returned  to  her  bed- 
side. Her  mind  wandered  a  little.  At  the  end  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  she  told  me  to  bring  in  M.  des  Essarts. 
I  obeyed ;  but,  when  she  attempted  to  talk  with  him,  she 
could  not  collect  her  ideas.  She  thought  people  were 
coming  to  take  away  her  papers  and  furniture.  We  vainly 
tried  to  convince  her  of  the  contrary.  I  then  said,  press- 
ing both  her  hands,  "  You  know  me,  surely ;  you  do  not 
think  I  would  deceive  you.  I  give  you  my  word,  that 
this  is  all  the  effect  of  a  little  access  of  fever."  She  re- 
plied steadily,  "  You  will  not  deceive  me :  you  will  only 
spare  me.  But  I  do  not  need  to  be  spared :  I  only  need 
the  truth."  She  raised  her  voice,  and  added,  with  great 
energy,  "  Yes,  the  truth  !  I  would  rather  have  a  hospital- 
bed  with  that,  than  all  the  luxury  in  the  world  without 
it !  "  So  you  see,  my  friend,  that  even  her  delirium  had 
a  grandeur  of  accent  which  many  a  sage  has  never  at- 
tained. 

The  agitation  and  fever  continued  all  the  afternoon ;  yet 


LIFE    OF    MADAME    SWETCHINE.  369 

she  still  recognized  Dr.  Rayer.  Towards  night,  she  be- 
came suddenly  calm.  At  nine  o'clock,  she  asked  for 
Father  Soimier.  We  suggested,  that  it  was  very  late  to 
send  for  him,  and  proposed  to  bring  in  the  Abbe  Serres, 
who  was  in  the  library.  She  assented.  She  could  no 
longer  raise  her  head :  but,  when  she  heard  him  approach 
her  bed,  she  asked  him  to  grant  her  absolution  once  more ; 
and,  when  she  had  received  it,  with  the  most  unmistakable 
signs  of  piety  and  faith  she  asked  if  she  could  partake  of 
the  communion  the  next  morning,  and  fixed  on  seven 
o'clock  as  the  hour  for  mass.  At  ten  o'clock,  all  was  still 
about  her.  From  time  to  time,  we  heard,  "  My  God, 
have  mercy  on  me!"  or  some  other  broken  words  of 
prayer.  At  midnight,  she  counted  the  strokes  of  "the 
clock.  After  that,  she  several  times  asked  the  hour.  At 
half-past  five,  she  said,  "  It  will  soon  be  time  for  mass. 
They  must  raise  me."  A  few  moments  later,  without 
another  word,  or  sign  of  suffering,  she  was  in  the  bosom 
of  her  God.  A.  DE  FALLOUX. 

CARADEUC,  Sept.  22, 1857. 


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devotion  to  her  vocation  have  both  elevated  and  mellowed  the  powers  of  the  most 
gifted  poetess  we  possess,  now  that  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  and  Adelaide 
Procter  sing  no  more  on  earth.  Lincolnshire  has  claims  to  be  considered  the 
Arcadia  of  England  at  present,  having  given  birth  both  to  Mr.  Tennyson  and  our 
present  Lady  Laureate."  — London  Morning  Star. 

"  We  have  read  and  reread,  always  with  a  better  and  softer  heart We 

wish  everybody  loved  Jean  Ingelow's  writings,  or,  rather,  that  everybody  would 
read  them,  for  their  admiration  would  follow."  — Providence  Post. 

POEMS.  Illustrated  Edition,  with  One  Hundred  Pictures  from 
Drawings  by  the  first  Artists  in  England.  In  one  quarto  vol- 
ume, bound  in  cloth,  bevelled  and  gilt,  price,  $  12.00 ;  or  in 
Morocco,  price,  $  1 8.00. 

"The  book  is  certainly  among  the  most  beautiful  of  the  holiday  offerings 
The  lovers  of  the  poet  will  not  tolerate  even  this  slightly  qualified  praise,  but 
pronounce  it  the  most  beautiful." 

SONGS  OP  SEVEN.  Illustrated  Edition,  small  quarto, 
bound  in  cloth,  gilt,  price  $5.00  ;  or  in  Morocco,  price  $  8.00. 

"  This  work  is  an  acknowledged  triumph  of  typographic  art,  with  its  delicate 
creamy  page  and  red-line  border." 

POEMS.     The  first  volume. 

A  STORY  OF  DOOM,  and  Other  Poems. 

Both   volumes,    16mo,    cloth,  gilt  top,  price  $3.50;  or  sep- 
arately, price  $  1.75  each. 

Both  volumes,   32mo,  Blue  and  Gold  Edition,  price  $  3.00 ; 
or  separately,  price  $  1 .50  each. 


13^"  Mailed  to  any  address,  post-paid,  on   receipt  of  price,  by  the 
Publishers. 

2 


Jean  Ingelow's  Writings. 


QTUDIES  FOR  STORIES.  Comprising  Five  Stories, 
^  with  an  Illustration  to  each  Story.  In  one  vol.  i6mo. 
Price,  $  1.50. 

"  Simple  in  style,  warm  with  human  affection,  and  written  in  faultless  Eng- 
ish,  these  five  stories  are  studies  for  the  artist,  sermons  for  the  thoughtful,  and 
.  rare  source  of  delight  for  all  who  can  find  pleasure  in  really  good  works  of 
irose  fiction.  .  .  .  They  are  prose  poems,  carefully  meditated,  and  exquisitely 
ouched  in  by  a  teacher  ready  to  sympathize  with  every  joy  and  sorrow."  — 
Athenaum. 

TORIES   TOLD   TO   A   CHILD.      Comprising  Fourteen 
Stories,  with  an  Illustration  to  each  Story.      In  one  vol. 
l6mo.     Price,  $  1.75. 
A  cheaper  edition,  with  Five  Illustrations.     Price,  $  1.25. 

"This  is  one  of  the  most  charming  juvenile  books  ever  laid  on  our  table.  It 
Is  beautifully  printed  and  bound,  and  profusely  illustrated.  The  stories  are 
very  interesting,  and  breathe  a  sweet,  pure,  happy  Christian  spirit.  Jean  In- 
jelow,  the  noble  English  poet,  second  only  to  Mrs.  Browning,  bends  easily  and 
gracefully  from  the  heights  of  thought  and  fine  imagination  to  commune  with 
the  minds  and  hearts  of  children  ;  to  sympathize  with  their  little  joys  and  sor- 
rows; to  feel  for  their  temptations.  She  is  a  safe  guide  for  the  little  pilgrims; 
"or  her  paths,  though  'paths  of  pleasantness,' lead  straight  upward."  —  Grace 
Greenwood  in  "  The  Little  Pilgrim." 

T)OOR  MATT;  OR,  THE  CLOUDED  INTELLECT.  With  an 
•*-  Illustration.  One  vol.  i8mo.  Price,  60  cents. 

"  A  lovely  story,  told  in  most  sweet  and  simple  language.  There  is  a  deep 
spiritual  significance  in  the  character  of  the  poor  half-idiot  boy,  which  should 
:ouch  the  hearts  of  'children  of  a  larger  growth.'"  —  Grace  Greenwood  in 
•'  The  Little  Pilgrim." 


Mailed  to  any  address,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  the  price,  by  the 
Publishers, 

EGBERTS  BROTHERS,  Boston. 

3 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


ECCE  HOMO.  A  Survey  of  the  Life  and  "Work  of  Jesus 
Christ  In  one  volume,  16mo.  Price,  $1.50. 

"  It  will  do  a  service  among  a  very  large  class  of  readers,  such  as  are  assigned 
to  hardly  more  than  two  or  three  volumes  in  a  century."  —  Rev.  George  E.Ellis. 

"This  remarkable  book  is  one  of  those  which  permanently  influence  public 
opinion.  The  author  has  a  right  to  claim  deference  frum  those  who  think  deepest 
and  know  most,  when  he  pleads  before  them  that  not  Philosophy  can  save  and 
reclaim  the  world,  but  Faith  in  a  Divine  Person  who  is  worthy  of  it,  allegiance 
to  a  Divine  Society  which  He  founded,  and  union  of  hearts  in  the  object  for 
which  He  created  it."  —  The  Guardian. 

ECCE  DEUS  :  Essays  on  the  Life  and  Doctrine  of  Jesus 
Christ.  With  Controversial  Notes  on  Ecce  Homo.  In  one 
volume,  to  match  Ecce  Homo.  Price,  $  1.50. 

"  We  believe  that  many  of  the  most  grateful  and  consenting  readers  of  '  Ecce 
Homo'  will  also  be  the  most  admiring  reader* of '  Ecce  Deus.'  In  the  main  tenor 

of  both  the  volumes  there  is  nothing  to  our  minds  inconsistent There  are 

large  numbers  of  liberal  minds  to  which  the  new  book  will  be  a  most  welcome 
and  helpful  volume."  — Boston  Transcript. 

"  '  Ecce  Deus  '  leaves  '  Ecce  Homo  '  far  behind,  and  casts  a  shade  over  it,  as  it 
rises  to  the  higher  and  grander  theme  of  the  Incarnation.  We  are  sorry  we 
cannot  enter  iuto  the  merits  of  this  work,  but  we  advise  our  readers  to  peruse  it 
along  with  '  Ecce  Homo,'  and  they  will  be  satisfied  of  the  important  part  its 
author  plays  as  a  vindicator  of  'the  Truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.'" — Scottish 
American  Journal. 

THE  SEER;  or,  Common  Places  Refreshed.  By 
LEIGH  HUNT.  In  two  volumes,  16mo.  Price,  S3.00. 

"  A  collection  of  delicious  essays,  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  characteristics 
of1  the  writer's  genius  and  manner,  and  on  topics  especially  calculated  to  bring 
out  all  the  charms  of  his  genial  spirit  and  develop  all  the  niceties  of  his  fluent 
diction,  and  worthy  of  being  domesticated  among  those  choice  family  books  which 
while  away  leisure  hours  with  agreeable  thoughts  and  fancies." —  Boston 
Transcript. 

"  The  '  Seer '  is  one  of  the  best  specimens  of  the  modern  essayist's  dealing  with 
the  minor  pleasures  and  domestic  philosophy  of  life,  and  is  a  capital  antidote  for 
the  too  exciting  books  of  the  hour  ;  it  lures  us  to  musing,  and  what  Hazlitt  calls 
'  reposing  on  our  sensations.' "  —  H.  T.  Tuckerman. 

THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH  OP  JASON.  A  Poem. 
By  WILLIAM  MORRIS.  One  volume,  16mo.  Price,  $1.50. 

"  In  all  the  noble  roll  of  our  poets  there  has  been  since  Chaucer  no  second 
teller  of  tales,  no  second  rhapsode  comparable  to  the  first,  till  the  advent  of  this 
one."  —  A.  C.  Swinburne. 

"  A  poem  remarkable  for  originality,  freshness,  and  vividness  of  description, 
and  beauty  and  force  of  narration."  —  London  Review. 

"  In  his  style  he  exercises  upon  us  the  spells  of  the  accomplished  story4eller." 
—  Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

T£5T~  Mailed,  pout-paid,  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  the  price,  by  the 
Publishers. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


CHRISTINA  ROSSETTI'S  POEMS.  With  Four  De- 
signs by  D.  G.  ROSSETTI.  One  elegant  16mo  volume.  Price, 
$  1.75. 

"Two  of  the  best  of  the  younger  poets  of  this  generation  are  women — Jean 

Ingeluw  and  Christina  Rossetti The  woman  who  could  write  the  •  Songs  of 

Seven,'  and  'The  High  Tide  on  the  Coast  of  Lincolnshire,'  need  not  look  to  fu- 
ture successes  for  applause  ;  and  there  are  many  poems  in  this  beautiful  volume 
by  Miss  liossetti  which  entitle  her  to  a  high  place  among  the  poets  of  the  day."  — 
John  G.  Saxe. 

THE  BOOK    OF   THE    SONNET.    By  LEIGH  HUNT 

and  S.  ADAMS  LEE.  A  Posthumous  Work  by  Hunt,  now  first 
published  from  the  original  MSS.  In  two  beautiful  post  8vo 
volumes.  Price,  $  5.00. 

"  The  genuine  aroma  of  literature  abounds  in  every  page  of  Leigh  Hunt's  de- 
licious Essay  on  the  Sonnet.  His  mind  shows  itself  imbued  with  a  rich  knowl- 
edge of  his  subject,  and  this,  illumined  by  the  evidence  of  a  thorough  and  unaf- 
fected liking  for  it,  makes  him  irresistible."  —  London  Saturday  Review. 

ROBERT  BUCHANAN'S  POEMS.  In  one  volume. 
16mo.  Cloth,  gilt  top.  Price,  $  1.75. 

"The  volume  is  the  work  of  a  born  poet.  Let  any  one  read  the  first  and  last 
poems  in  the  collection,  and  he  will  not  fail  to  read  every  line  which  intervenes 
between  them.  '  Langley  Lane '  is  one  of  the  tenderest,  sweetest,  most  musical, 
and  most  original  love-poems  in  the  language."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

CHARLES  LAMB.  A  Memoir.  By  BARRY  CORNWALL. 
One  volume,  16mo,  with  Profile  Portrait  of  Lamb.  Price, 

$1.75. 

"  We  advise  all  young  readers  to  approach  Elia  and  Lamb's  Life  and  Letters 

through  this  soft  and  exquisite  prelude  of  Barry  Cornwall's Closing  the 

book,  and  remembering  that  its  writer  is  seventy-seven  years  old,  and  the  sole 
survivor  of  those  evenings  which  are  as  familiar  to  the  lovers  of  Elia  as  if  they 
had  been  themselves  present,  it  lingers  in  the  memory  like  a  strain  of  the  sad- 
dest and  sweetest  music."  —  Harper's  Monthly. 

THE    GENIUS    OF    SOLITUDE.    By  REV.  WM.  R. 

ALOER,  Author  of  "  The  Doctrine  of  a  Future  Life."  One 
volume,  12mo.  Price,  $2.00. 

"Mr.  Aider's  Genius  of  Solitude  Is  the  work  of  a  scholar,  of  a  man  who  has 
written  critically  and  comprehensively  on  Oriental  poetry,  and  on  a  branch  of 
speculative  psychology.  It  is,  moreover,  a  book  intended  to  have  a  practical 
effect  — to  teach  men  to  dislike  what  is  bad,  and  to  admire  and  love  what  is 
good." — London  Chronicle. 


|3f  Mailed,  post-paid,  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  tke  price,  by  tht 
Publishers, 

5 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


MEMOIRS  AND  CORRESPONDENCE  OP 
MADAME  RECAMIER.  Translated  and  Edited  by 
Miss  LUYSTER.  One  Volume,  12mo,  with  a  finely  engraved 
Portrait.  Price,  $2.00. 

"  The  diversified  contents  of  this  volume  can  hardly  fail  to  gain  for  it  a  wide 
perusal.  It  has  the  interest,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  of  history  and  romance  ; 
of  truth  stranger  than  fiction  ;  of  personal  sketches  ;  of  the  curious  phases  of  an 
exceptional  social  life  ;  of  singular  admixtures  of  piety  and  folly,  of  greatness  and 
profligacy,  fidelity  and  intrigue,  all  mingling  or  revealed  in  connection  with  the 
prolonged  career  of  one  who  was,  in  certain  respects,  the  most  remarkable  woman 
of  her  time."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

A  PAINTER'S  CAMP.  Book  I. :  In  England.  Book  II. : 
In  Scotland.  Book  III. :  In  France.  By  PHILIP  GILBERT 
HAMERTON.  In  one  volume.  16ino.  Pictorial  title.  Price, 
$1.50. 

"  In  the  pursuit  of  his  profession  as  a  landscape-painter,  the  author  has  not 
hesitated  to  plunge  into  the  remote  and  unattractive  nooks  aud  corners  of  nature, 
gathering  a  rich  store  of  materials  for  his  pencil,  and  describing  his  whimsical 
experiences  with  a  gayety  and  unction  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  subject.  His 
account  of  the  practical  methods  by  which  he  conquered  the  difficulties  of  the 
position  is  instructive  in  the  extreme,  while  the  anecdotes  and  adventures  which 
he  relates  with  such  exuberant  fun  make  his  book  one  of  the  most  entertaining  of 
the  season."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

CURIOUS    MYTHS    OP    THE    MIDDLE    AGES. 

By  S.  BARING-GOULD.     In  one  volume,  16mo.    With  Illus- 
trations.    Price,  $  1.50. 

"  A  singular  book,  and  a  very  interesting  one  to  those  who  are  fond  of  explor- 
ing the  dark  corners  of  literature  and  life,  is  '  Curious  Myths  of  The  Middle  Ages,' 
by  S.  Baring-Gould,  M.  A.  It  treats  of  The  Wandering  Jew  ;  Prester  John  ;  The 
Divining  Rod  ;  The  Seven  Sleepers  of  Ephesus  ;  William  Tell ;  The  Dog  Gellert ; 
Tailed  Men  ;  Antichrist  and  Pope  Joan  ;  The  Man  in  the  Moon  ;  The  Mountain 
of  Venus  ;  Fatality  of  Numbers  ;  The  Terrestrial  Paradise  ;  bringing  together 
many  quaint  and  fanciful  legends,  exposing  the  fallacy  of  some  popular  beliefs, 
and  suggesting  topics  for  thought  and  investigation  as  to  various  psychological 
problems."  —  Springfield  Republican. 

SUNSHINE     AND     SHOWERS  :     Their    Influences 
throughout  Creation.  A  Compendium  of  Popular  Meteorology. 
By  ANDREW  STEIKMITZ,  ESQ.     The  English  Edition.     One 
volume,  post  8vo.     With  Illustrations.     Price,  $  3.00. 
"  We  have  received  from  Roberts  Brothers  a  delightful  volume,  published  by 
Reeve  &  Co.,  London,  entitled  '  Sunshine  and  Showers  :  their  Influences  through- 
out Creation  :  by  Andrew  Steinmitz.'    It  is  a  compendium  of  popular  meteo- 
rology.    As  a  large  portion  of  the  conversation  of  human  beings  relates  to  the 
weather,  we  should  judge  that  a  book  which  enables  one  to  talk  intelligently  about 
it  would  have  an  extensive  circulation.    It  treats,  in  an  intelligible  way,  of  the 
arrangement  of  the  atmosphere,  the  moisture  in  the  air,  the  characteristics  and 
meteorology  of  the  seasons,  the  method  of  interpreting  the  barometer  and  the 
thermometer,  the  prediction  of  the  weather  and  the  explanation  of  popular  weather 
prognostics,  the  curiosities  of  lightning,  artificial  rain,  &c.  <  and  it  answers  the 
questions,   '  What  Becomes   of  the  Sunshine  ? '    and   '  What   Becomes  of  the 
Showers  ? '    The  science  relating  to  all  topics  connected  with  the  weather  seems 
to  have  been  mastered  by  the  writer,  and  his  volume  is  therefore  full  of  surprising 
facts  and  ingenious  theories."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

P3T"  Mailed,  post-paid,  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  the  price,  by  the 
Publishers. 

6 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


SHAKESPEARE.  The  Globe  Edition.  With  all  the  Poems 
and  a  Glossary.  In  one  volume,  16mo.  Price,  $2.00. 

For  a  one-volume  edition,  this  is  the  most  attractive  now  before  the  public. 
The  typography  is  beautifully  clear,  the  paper  fine  and  good,  and  the  whole  well 
calculated  to  suit  the  student  or  the  general  reader 

SHAKESPEARE.  The  Handy- Volume  Edition.  With  all 
the  Poems  and  a  Glossary.  In  13  volumes,  32mo.  Bound  in 
limp  cloth,  red  edges,  with  a  neat  cloth  case.  Price,  $  12.00. 

The  present  edition  is  intended,  in  respect  to  its  appearance  and  size,  —  a  clear, 
beautiful  type,  and  a  page  free  from  notes,  —  to  form  a  handy,  readable  series  of 
volumes,  equally  adapted  for  the  Pocket,  the  Knapsack,  and  the  Railway. 

THE  POETRY  OF  THE  ORIENT.  By  WILLIAM 
EOUNSEVILLE  ALGER.  In  one  volume,  16mo.  Price,  $1.75. 

This  is  a  complete  Introduction  to  Oriental  Poetry  in  all  its  families  and  de- 
partments ;  from  the  great  epics  of  India,  Persia,  and  Arabia,  to  their  innu- 
merable varieties  of  lyrical,  descriptive,  and  aphoristic  verse.  It  gives  a  critical 
account  of  the  chief  Eastern  authors  and  their  works,  and  illustrates  them  by 
hundreds  of  specimens.  It  is  the  only  work  of  the  kind  in  our  language  ;  and 
as  such,  no  less  than  from  its  intrinsic  merits,  it  possesses  a  unique  value  and 
charm. 

POEMS.  By  DAVID  GRAY.  With  an  Introductory  Notice  by 
Lord  Honghton,  Memoir  of  the  Author,  and  Final  Memorials. 
One  volume,  16mo.  Price,  $  1  50. 

"  His  heart  and  life  are  mirrored  in  these  poems,  and  how  pathetic  is  the  pic- 
ture !  How  the  ardent  soul,  yearning  for  fame  and  life,  shrinks  and  shudders 
as  it  sees  death  steadily  approaching  ;  how  it  clings  to  the  dear  dreams  of  youth  ; 
how  earnestly  it  strives  for  resignation  and  faith,  and  seeks  to  make  the  life 
beyond  the  prave  as  real  and  tangible  as  this,  which  the  failing  frame  feels  in  its 
veins  !  To  this  identity  of  the  poems  with  the  poet,  to  this  clear  showing  of  the 
inner  man,  the  book  before  us  owes,  perhaps,  its  deepest  and  most  touching 
charms."  —  Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 


t^jr"  Mailed,  post-paid,  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  the  price,  by  the 
Publishers. 

7 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


A  THOUSAND  MILES  IN  THE  BOB  KOY 
CANOE,  or  Rivers  and  Lakes  of  Europe.  By  JOHN  MAC- 
GREGOR,  M.  A.  Fifth  Edition.  With  a  Map  and  numerous 
Illustrations.  One  volume,  16mo.  Price,  $2.50. 

THE  ROB  ROY  ON  THE  BALTIC;  The  Narra- 
tive of  the  Rob  Roy  Canoe,  on  Lakes  and  Rivers  of  Sweden, 
Denmark,  Norway,  and  on  the  Baltic  and  North  Seas.  By 
JOHN  MACGREGOR,  Trin.  Coll.,  Cambridge;  Author  of  "A 
Thousand  Miles  in  the  Rob  Roy  Canoe."  With  numerous 
Illustrations.  One  volume,  16mo.  Price,  $2.50. 

"We  recommend  Mr.  Macgregor's  book  as  a  pleasant  record  of  a  very  re- 
markable feat  in  the  annals  of  travelling."  —  Athenaeum. 


DRAMAS  AND  POEMS.  By  BULWER  LYTTON.  Con- 
taining "  The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  "  Richelieu,"  and  "  Money," 
and  Minor  Poems.  With  a  fine  Portrait  on  Steel.  One  vol- 
ume, 32rao.  Blue  and  Gold.  Price,  $  1.25. 

"  No  living  English  writer  is  more  read  on  the  continent  of  Europe  than  Bul- 
wer.  His  works  have  been  translated  into  nearly  all  the  living  languages  of 
Europe."  —  New  American  Cyclopedia. 


POEMS.  By  CHARLES  SWAIN.  With  a  fine  Portrait  from  a 
recent  photograph.  One  volume,  32mo.  Blue  and  Gold. 
Price,  $1.25. 

"  Many  of  his  songs  have  been  wafted  by  their  own  aerial  sweetness  across  the 
sea ;  and  his  felicitous  description  of  Scott's  funeral  (Dryburph  Abbey),  attended 
by  a  procession  of  the  romancer's  immortal  characters,  is  too  graphic  a  tribute 
to  genius  not  to  be  recalled  with  delight."  —  H.  T.  Tuckerman. 


HUDIBRAS.  A  Poem.  By  SAMUEL  BUTLER.  With 
Notes,  a  Life  of  the  Author,  and  Illustrations.  In  one  vol- 
ume, 32mo.  Price,  $  1 .25. 

"  The  choicest  of  all  editions  for  the  reader  or  student." 


B3T~  Mailed,  post-paid,  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  the  price,  by  the 
Publishers. 

8 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


MELANCHOLY  ANATOMIZED ;  showing  its  Causes, 
Consequences,  and  Cure.  With  Anecdotic  Illustrations. 
Chiefly  founded  on  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy.  In 
one  volume,  16mo.  Pi-ice,  $  1.75. 

THE  PRACTICAL  COOK-BOOK,  and  Economical 
Housekeeper's  Guide.  By  MRS.  E.  A.  HOWLAND.  In  one 
volume.  IGmo.  Price,  63  cts. 

THE  MODEL  LETTER- WRITER,  Containing  Let- 
ters on  Business,  Friendship,  Love,  etc.,  to  which  are  added 
Legal  Forms,  useful  to  every  one.  In  one  volume,  32ino. 
Price,  50  cents. 

A    POCKET    ENGLISH    DICTIONARY.     By  DR. 

JOHNSON.     One  volume,  32mo.    Price,  30  cents. 

LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  MADAME  SWET- 
CHINE.  By  COUNT  DE  FALLOUX,  of  the  French  Acade- 
my. Translated  by  H.  W.  PRESTON,  with  an  Introduction. 
In  one  volume.  12mo.  Price,  $2.00.  (In  Press.) 

Madame  Swetchine  was  a  friend  and  cotemporary  of  Madame  Recamier,  and 
this  is  intended  as  a  companion  volume  to  that  delightful  hook,  being  the  sec- 
ond volume  of  Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Library  of  Exemplary  Women. 

THE  LAYMAN'S  BREVIARY.  A  Selection  for  every 
Day  in  the  Year.  Translated  from  the  German  of  Leopold 
Schefer,  by  C.  T.  BROOKS.  In  one  square  16mo  volume. 
(In  Press.) 

MY  PRISONS.  By  SILVIO  PELLICO.  A  new  edition,  with 
many  beautiful  Illustrations.  One  volume,  16mo.  (In  Press.) 

THE  FRIENDSHIPS   OF  WOMEN.    By  WILLIAM 

ROUNSEVILLE  Au.Ki;,  Author  of  "  The  Genius  of  Solitude." 
(In  Press.) 


Mailed,  pott-paid,  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  the  price,  by  the 

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9 


MESSRS.    ROBERTS    BROTHERS 

PUBLISH    THE    FOLLOWING 


The  great  interest  evinced  at  this  time  on  the  subject  of  Religion  has  created  a 
iemand  for  those  admirable  books, 

Heaven  our  Home. 

HE  HAVE  NO  SAVIOUR  BUT  JESUS  AND  NO  HOME  BUT  HhAVEN. 

Meet  for  Heaven. 

A  STATE  OF   GRACE  UPON  EARTH  THE  ONLY  PREPARATION  FOR  A 
STATE  OF  GLORY  IN   HEAVEN. 

Life  in  Heaven. 

THERE  FAITH  IS  CHANGED    INTO   SIGHT,   AND   HOPE  IS  PASSED 
INTO  BLISSFUL  FRUITION. 

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tures respectimj  our  heavenly  home  of  love,  and  they  have  done  not  a  little  to 
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11 


ALPHABETICAL    LIST 

OF 

Messrs.   Roberts   Brothers'   Publications. 


Alger  (Bev.  W.  R.).     Poetry  of  the  Orient.    Page  7. 

"  "  The  Genius  of  Solitude.    Page  6. 

"  "  The  Friendships  of  Women.    Page  9. 

A  Bound  of  Days.    Page  1. 
Buchanan  (Robert).    Poems.    Page  6. 
Butler  (Samuel).      Hudibras.     Page  8. 

Baring-Gould  (S.).    Curious  Myths  of  the  Middle  Ages.    Page  5. 
Cornwall  (Barry).      Charles  Lamb.    A  Memoir.     Page  6. 
Cervantes.    The  Adventures  of  Don  Quixote.     Page  1. 
Dore  (Gustave).    Two  Hundred  Humorous  Sketches.     Page  1. 
Doyle  (Richard)  and  Planche.    An  Old  Fairy  Tale.    Page  1. 
Ecce  Homo.    Page  4. 
Ecce  Deus.    Page  4. 
Griset  (Ernest).    Grotesques.    Page  1. 
Gray  (David).    Poems.    Page  7. 
Hamerton  (Philip  G.).    A  Painter's  Camp.    Page  5. 
Hunt  (Leigh).    The  Seer.    Page  4. 

Hunt  (Leigh  and  S.  Adams  Lee).    The  Book  of  the  Sonnet    Page  6. 
Heaven  (The)  Series.     Page  10. 
Rowland  (Mrs.).    The  Practical  Cook  Book.    Page  9. 
Ingelow's  (Jean)  Poetical  Writings.     Page  2. 
Ingelow's  (Jean)  Prose  Writings.    Page  3. 
Ingraham's  (Rev.  J.  H.)  Religious  Writings.    Page  10. 
Johnson's  (Dr.)  Pocket  English  Dictionary.    Page  9. 
Juvenile  Works.    Page  11. 

Lytton  (E.  Bulwer).    Poems  and  Dramas.    Page  8. 
Morris  (William).    The  Life  and  Death  of  Jason.     Page  4. 
Macgregor  (John).    A  Thousand  Miles  in  the  Rob  Roy  Canoe.    Page  8. 

"  "         The  Rob  Roy  on  the  Baltic.    Page  8. 

Melancholy  Anatomized.    Page  9. 
Model  (The)  Letter  Writer.     Page  9. 
Pellico  (Silvio).    My  Prisons.     Page  9. 
Parables  (The)  of  our  Lord.    Page  1. 

Recamier  (Madame).    Memoirs  and  Correspondence.    Page  5. 
Rossetti  (Christina  G.).    Poems.    Page  6. 

Shakespeare.    The  Globe  Edit.    The  Handy-Volume  Edit.    Page  7. 
Swain  (Charles).    Poems.    Page  8. 
Schefer  (Leopold).    The  Layman's  Breviary.    Page  9. 
Swetchine  (Madame).    Life  and  Letters.    Page  9. 
Steinmetz  (Andrew).    Sunshine  and  Showers.     Page  5. 
Schiller's  Lay  of  the  Bell,  translated  by  Bulwer.    Page  1. 
12 


&  v 


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Series  94 


